


My Dark Passenger

by Malevolent_Mind



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Harry, Gen, Horcruxes, Horror, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:47:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3633819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malevolent_Mind/pseuds/Malevolent_Mind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twisted by witnessing his mother's murder at the age of eight, Harry begins a forbidden journey to bring Lily back from the dead. Trained and torn between light and dark mentors, he struggles between absolute justice and the promise of blood, bone and ash. Includes: Dark Harry, war crimes, horcruxes, and the events of the first generation of the Order (Multi POV). Horror/Suspense</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An autumn blazed maple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's note: This story was inspired by the TV show: Dexter and based on J.K Rowling's Harry Potter Universe. Including "The Tales of Beetle the Bard." This story will explore much of the unexplored Harry Potter canon world that has been expanded via Pottermore. The only OC character will be Harry Potter's younger sister (oh and some werewolves). All other characters are from canon. You just might not have heard of them and where I know it is tempting to skip the parts that are not Harry, please don't or you will be lost.  
> Betas: ValwithV, Asylum94, and LucyTheBucktoothTiger  
> Rated M for the following: Murder, torture, blood, gore, minor child abuse, and intense violence.

Chapter One:  
**Peter Pettigrew**

Peter Pettigrew sorted through the mountain of paperwork on his desk. In the large pile, the page he sought remained elusive. His forehead wrinkled with worry as he glanced at his watch. He reached for the file at the top, stretching his fingers as he tried not to stand on the tips of his toes. Arms straining and sweat beading, he heard someone walk into his small cubicle.

A thick folder was thrown on top of his hands, causing him to lose his balance. He fell back into his chair as papers crashed around him. Sharply he turned to look up at the man towering next to his desk. Alastor Moody stood scowling back. Peter tried to ignore the sensation of his skin crawling as Mad-eye Moody narrowed his magical eye, observing his every movement.

"Can I help you?" Peter bit out.

"I need that paperwork filled out and on my desk by tomorrow morning. That's not gonna be a problem, is it?"

"No, sir. I'll do it before I go home."

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

Frowning but still silent, Peter bent down towards the ground and made his second attempt retrieve the papers. He wrinkled his pointed nose as he stretched under his desk and grabbed them. Moody carefully watched him.

"I'll start on this right away." Peter smiled up at Moody, his face completely void of the resentment he harbored. He still was not sure why out of all the aurors and Order members, Moody was the only one who openly loathed him.

"Let me know if you can't reach something." Moody growled as he left Peter's small cubicle.

Peter straightened his back, grabbed a sharpened quill from his holder and dug it into the parchment. He scribbled random nonsense trying to clear his head. Moody frustrated him on a daily basis. It helped that he had learned from an early age not to stand against stronger men.

It was a skill he had gained as a child by watching his mother fall for the same lies over and over. She trusted too easily, loved to shamelessly, and because of this flaw, he had been born a bastard. His mother was foolish and weak-minded, she could not see how the world really worked. He grew up watching his mother repeatedly attempt to regain their family's honor only to sink deeper into shame. But he knew the truth.

Only the strongest survived.

Long before he attended Hogwarts, he vowed to never be attached to lesser men. He rubbed back his mousy brown hair, staring at the photo of his friends. Even in his first hours at Hogwarts he had immediately been drawn to James and Sirius. They had sauntered into Hogwarts with their shoulders squared, smirks full of confidence.

Peter knew from the start that he would win his place beside them. It had taken time, groveling, worshipping, and unquestioning loyalty. During his entire time at Hogwarts, they never once disappointed him. He was a knight beside lords and he had been happy. Even when his new found protectors befriended the werewolf, they found a way to keep Remus' strength in check with minimal risk to the group. While also gaining them a powerful ability, the power to transform into an Animagus. He found peace at Hogwarts, something he had never known before.

But then came the war.

Even in his time at Hogwarts he heard whispers of the war. After they had all graduated, James and Sirius went off to Auror training, and he made sure to follow. He found employment as a clerk in a nice safe office at the Auror department. He had successfully kept his protection close and unwavering. However, his certainty faltered as the months passed. Daily he watched Auror after Auror return maimed, dead or crippled for life.

Soon after they'd left school, he and his friends had joined the Order. In his workplace Peter was surrounded by his people. They were everywhere and their clear presence made him feel better. Peter had worked beside many Aurors these last few years but the two that stood out in his mind the most were James Potter and Frank Longbottom. Both were his age but still more powerful than he had ever dreamed of becoming. Thankfully, he had never witnessed their skills in battle, the pictures and reports were enough to put him in awe.

It wasn't until their sons were born and they were put on the Dark Lord's hit list, that doubts turned to certainty. They could not protect him. The next seven years Peter watched as the Order began to struggle against the Dark Lord's forces. He began to dream of familiar dead faces. But what got to Peter the most was the overbearing exhaustion painted on every Auror and member of the Orders' face. Their hopes, their lives slowly fading.

How could his friends survive this war? A war they were clearing losing.

The smell of burning flesh and the sound of piercing screams jolted him from his thoughts. Dread pooled into his stomach, his friend's voice filtering through the pained moans. He rushed around the corner, panic pulsing his heart. Outside of his cubicle the floo flared to life, opening a doorway as a group of Aurors came through, retreating from the enemy.

He watched James drag Sirius from the fireplace, Sirius' sagging form covered in black oozing burns. Frozen with fear and denial, James screamed at him to find a healer. Sickened, Peter made a decision.

He was not safe anymore...

Peter sat at a wooden table, staring nervously ahead at Lily and James Potter. They had invited him to their home last minute saying they needed to speak with him. He fidgeted in his seat as he watched the Potter's cat eye him from the kitchen doorway with a hungry gleam in its eyes. He never understood why Lily insisted on getting a bloody cat. Why not a dog? Sirius would have enjoyed another canine to romp around with. He frowned at the thought of his friend.

It had been over a year since Sirius had come back covered in burns and not even a week ago Sirius had been injured again! He would never forget the smell of intestines hanging from his friend's stomach. The entrails expelling curse had put Sirius into St Mungo's Hospital for two weeks. Sirius had been continually targeted during the Death Eater raids due to the suspicion that he might be the Potter's Secret Keeper, knowing that if the Secret Keeper died, everyone that he had told would then have the ability to whisper their homes whereabouts. Thus significantly weakening the Potter's protection. The memory turned his belly and caused his palms to become clammy. Sirius would be released soon but it did not make Peter feel any better, it only reminded him that he was left unprotected and weak.

Peter had spent the last year trying to find an artifact, a spell or any information to trade for Voldemort's protection but Dumbledore never trusted him with any sensitive information due to his lack of occlumency skills and dueling capabilities, the old wizard knew that he was weak.

Lily stood across the room stirring a spoonful of honey into a cup of tea. James sat across him at the opposite end of the spacious table tapping his fingers against the wood and adjusting his circular glasses.

"Peter, we've been friends for a long time and so I was hoping I could ask you a question."

Peter stared at James. Confusion and caution swirled in his stomach. James took his silence as a sign to continue.

"You've changed. I can't remember the last time you voiced your worries of the war." James looked right into his eyes. Peter wondered if he suspected something.

"The Order gives me courage." He replied, putting on his best Gryffindor smile. James ruffled his classic Potter hair, laughing lightly.

"That's good to hear." James paused and coughed, clearing his throat. "It's just...You really have been remarkable lately." James started. Peter's face began to hurt as he continued to force a smile on his face, struggling with the rising panic that threatened to destroy his mask.

"You're bravery gives me strength."

James flashed him a wide smile, basking in his compliment.

"I'm happy to help." James stated before his smile faltered. "I just wish I could help Sirius as well. All of these attacks have worn on him. I just wish there was a way to lessen the burden." James leaned forward, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

Peter tried his hardest to remain calm but a battle began to rage in his mind. Surely, James was not hinting about what he thought he was.

"I'm not sure I follow."

"I mean... Do you think you could help us? Help Sirius? Could you take that weight off of his shoulders?"

Peter's heart fluttered. He knew this was his chance, but all he noticed was the guilt churning in his stomach. The memories of his childhood flashed across his mind before the image of his mother came forward. He brutally brushed his thoughts away and when they finally settled, only one thought keep his mind blank.

Only the strongest survives.

"Yes, I think I can."

He had his gift to present to the dark lord. He would not be broken like his pathetic mother.

**Lily Potter**

Lily sat outside in the gardens of Godric's Hollow, watching Harry and Alice's son zoom around on their toy brooms. She hummed a soft melody as she cut the top of a flowering foxglove. With expert movements, she removed the purple blossoms and tossed them into a wicker basket at her side. Usually she only harvested foxglove bells for her heart stroke prevention potions but today she was humoring her husband, who had requested a batch of Pompion Potions to prank his fellow Aurors. While she could understand that the department needed a little holiday cheer, she could not help but worry about the reaction of her husband's boss, Rufus Scrimgeour. He would not be pleased when the whole department suddenly sprouted pumpkin heads.

Her musing was interrupted by a set of small hands pulling at her robes.

"Mummy, can you play with me?" Her youngest child smiled up at her.

Lily stood up, pulled off her gloves, and brought her daughter into her arms. She balanced her on one hip as she bent down to grab the wicker basket. Pulling out a purple flower, she held it up for her daughter.

"Rosie, can you eat foxgloves?" The corners of her eyes crinkled with amusement as she clearly faked her ignorance.

Rose glanced at the harvested flower, deep in thought before she shouted. "No, mummy. That's a bad plant!"

Lily gave her daughter a wide grin. "Why?"

"You can get a tummy ache if you eat it." Rose lectured.

"Oh now I remember!" Lily winked at her daughter as she twirled the purple blossom between her fingers and pulled it from its stem. "But it's still pretty, huh?" Lily placed the flower behind her daughter's ear, the purple hue complementing her auburn hair. Rose nodded back.

Lily was proud of the amount of knowledge she had instilled into her children. While she never let her children wander through the more dangerous sections of her gardens alone, she actively tried to teach them about the wide variety of poisonous and dangerous plants which grew there. It was sometimes frustrating that her potions work affected her children's lives but she believed the whole experience beneficial to them. They got plenty of time playing under the sun and she was sure they would be outstanding in Herbology and Potions.

Lily walked towards the small cottage. Sitting at the patio table, Alice Longbottom sipped from a teacup.

Once Lily reached the patio, she set her daughter down.

"Rosie, Dolly wants a cup of tea." Lily motioned her towards the toys. Rose gave her a toothy grin before walking to the left, where many cooking herbs were planted. Lily pulled the metal chair across the cobblestone and sat across from Alice.

"Finally done working for once, huh?" Alice winked.

"Oh stop. You know the Order is always low on some kind of potion." Lily waved her hand dismissively.

"You should rest every once in a while. Doesn't Dumbledore have a backup potions maker?"

Lily frowned as she thought of her first best friend.

"Yes, but I couldn't bother him with it. That man already does enough for the Order." She felt her heart clenched as she forced the thoughts of the man who had unknowingly destroyed her life from her mind. Alice gave her a look before turning towards their children.

An early autumn wind blew across the trees, shaking the thick branches, loosening the golden maple seeds and gliding them through the air like winged snitches. Harry and Neville shot across the yard attempting to grasp them. Alice and Lily shared a silent smile.

As the silence stretched between them, Lily felt a growing sense of peace. Alice Longbottom was not like her others friends. They had shared so much, from their first night sleeping at Hogwarts to gushing about their first loves. Alice had walked alongside her as their bellies rounded with pregnancy. She had been there the night Dumbledore shared the prophecy that caused them to go into hiding. She was the only one who truly understood what it was like to be a prisoner in one's own home, to be disconnected from their own society. She cherished their friendship, even though Alice nagged her far too often about working.

Lily honestly did not mind the extra work, the extra time in the open air. It was her way of fighting the war. She had to help.

The silence was broken by a sudden loud thump, drawing her attention upwards. Lily's eyes widened as she saw her son's feet sticking out of a wiggenbush. Neville hurried off his toy broom, running to help her son. Lily laughed despite the situation. She remembered when Harry was younger and how much he had worried her. Over the years and after hundreds of daredevil stunts, she had learned to accept that boys would be boys, especially Potter boys.

Lily had been so excited to find out her second child was a girl but fate found it fitting that her daughter only inherited her physical features and all of James' personality. She briefly turned towards her daughter, who was playing tea party with her dolly. Lily did a double take, narrowing in on the pulled up peppermint plants that now sat in Rose's tea cup. She burst into laughter. And to think she had once thought that a daughter would be easier than another son.

Unworried, Lily stood up and slowly made her way over to Harry. Her son was still struggling, head first in the bushes. She pulled him out and began to check for injuries.

"Where does it hurt? Do I need to get my kit?" Once she was sure nothing was broken, Lily gently set him back on his feet. With dirt covered hands, Harry rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish grin. Lily frowned when she spotted a small scrape on his cheek, pulling him into a tight hug she tried to wipe a smug of dirt from his forehead.

"Why couldn't you have been a bookworm, like me?!"

"Mum, it was an accident. There was this huge bird and..." Harry continued with his story, clearly trying to talk his way out of a lecture on flying safety.

"You're going to give Minerva a run for her money." Lily laughed, her son trying to wiggle out of her hug, only causing her to pull him tighter as she laid a soft kiss on his forehead before she begrudgingly let go. She watched Harry race over to his broom, checking it for damage.

Her children's loving faces distracted her from the war and at times almost made her forget that her world was falling apart. Voldemort had been perplexingly inactive the last year. Until the previous week, they had not lost anyone in months.

Marlene Mckinnon's death had been silently creeping at the edge of her thoughts but neither Alice nor she voiced their shared sorrow.

She was still having a hard time accepting that her friend was dead. The day Sirius had delivered the news of Marlene's death, she had cried the entire night. Marlene's husband, her children, all tortured and brutally tore apart. The wails of Marlene's youngest sister, the only surviving Mckinnon ringing in her head, invading her very dreams.

Lily made her way back to the patio. Alice sat down across from her looking nervous.

"Goodness, your son is a handful. Neville has his moments but he's a bit more reserved like his Father." Lily knew Alice was trying to make her smile but all she could picture were the pale faces of the Mckinnons staring up at her from the coffins. Alice rubbed her hands down her legs anxiously.

"How are you handling the news?" Alice's warm eyes stared at her with concern. "You were always closer to Marlene than Frank and I were."

Lily sat and remembered the hard nights after a battle turned sour. Before her isolation in Godric's Hallow she had gone out for drinks with Alice and Marlene. Marlene had always been so spunky and sure of herself, how could she be dead? Lily knew the witch would be locked in a compartment of her memory forever.

Lily stared out at Harry, who was already zooming across the lawn and wondered if she would ever feel safe again.

"I'll get through it."

At the edge of Godric's Hollow, inside thick brick walls, on the second floor, Lily chased her children through the toy covered room. It was an hour past bedtime, excitement from the Halloween party still lingered.

"Rose, please stop trying to change your brother's costume pink!" Lily sighed. Her youngest chased Harry through the room, still attempting to hit him with her enchanted pixie stick. Rose's neon blue pixie suit glittered as she swung, only adding to her mischievous appearance.

"Mum, Rose won't stop hitting me!" Harry yelled as he climbed up onto his bed. Lily caught her wild child and distracted her with their nightly ritual, which Lily had dubbed The Pants Dance. Wrestling her daughter to the bed, Lily attempted to dodge Rose's kangaroo kicks, and tickled her until she finally submitted to being changed.

After their teeth were brushed and their pajamas were buttoned Lily clapped her hands together, drawing the attention of her children.

"Who wants a bedtime story?"

Rose jumped up and down as Harry rushed to pull on his soft slippers.

"Me, me, me, me," Rose chanted.

Ushering them towards the hall, she lead them downstairs. Standing at the end of the wooden staircase, she glanced briefly at the front door. The Order had called her husband in only moments earlier, due to possible Death Eater activity. Thankfully, they had not called James in during the party but she still had been left alone to coaxes her sugar filled children to bed. Turning right, she walked into the living room.

Hanging in front of large windows, maroon curtains reflected soft flames, the fireplace casting the room in a warm glow. The smell of ink and paper mingled with the earthy aroma of recently harvested autumn roots. Lily's fingers delicately danced across rows of books, pondering over the endless choices that lined the walls.

"What story should I read tonight?"

"Can you read the story about the three brothers?"

Lily raised her eyebrow and looked down at her son. "That's not really a bedtime story."

"But it's Halloween! Please," Harry pleaded.

With a pointed smile Lily nodded and pulled an ancient tome from the shelf. Dust coated most of the books in her home but not this one. It was a favorite in her household and had clear signs of wear. She recalled James telling her that it had been in his family for generations and was rumored to be one of the first editions. Lily leaned back into her living room sofa, sinking comfortably into its cushions. Harry and Rose cuddled against her sides as she read them a story from The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

Weariness washed over her. She rubbed her eyes, the dark circles below only sinking deeper into her skull each day. Voldemort had been unusually active since Marlene's death and the stress of war kept her up at night. She would toss and turn so much in her sleep that the very act of resting caused her stress. She was so sick of struggling; so tired of war.

Lily continued the story. "They were halfway across the bridge when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure, and it was Death. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travelers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for being clever enough to evade him."

In hush tones her voice carried through the room, triggering their young faces to droop against her shoulders and yawns to escape rose coloured lips. She smiled down at them, soaking in the memory, knowing it would help fuel her spirit in the future. Her aching body was hard to ignore, but the importance of her work gave her strength. She knew her potions were helping The Order's cause. Even though she was unable to leave her home often, she would be damned before she sat around doing nothing. As she felt her muscles twitch and her back ache, fatigue consumed her but she continued on.

Pulling her fingers through Harry's unruly hair, she straightened it like only a mother could, ignoring the glare Harry shot up at her.

"Mum, stop it!"

Lily rolled her eyes and continued to stroke it. Harry had always been such a sweet child, energetic and strong-willed but always gentle. She remembered the first time Harry had held his little sister when he was three years old. He had stared at Rose with a fearful expression. She had assumed his fear was due to the thought of sharing his parents but later she had discovered that he had been terrified of breaking her.

Lily turned another page of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and began reading the next story. Dark hair draped across tired eyes, their bodies leaned more heavily into hers.

While reading Bibbitty Rabbitty, a sudden rush of static tickled down her spine. She paused. Her eyebrow furrowed as she tried to recall the last time Dumbledore had strengthened the wards. Certainly Dumbledore would have mentioned coming over. A small burst of light filtered across the covered windows. Lily pursed her lips together.

Well, Dumbledore did have his eccentric moments.

"One second, sweethearts. Mummy needs to check something out."

Her children whined and begged her not to stop the story, their energy magically restoring. She bit her tongue. Dumbledore better have a good excuse to be messing with the wards.

"I promise it will not take long." She ruffled her children's hair and gently maneuvered around them.

Crossing the living room, she pulled back the curtains, glancing outside her window, expecting to spot Dumbledore's flamboyant robes. But there were no purple robes or twinkling eyes. She pulled her hands to her mouth, trying to silence an escaping gasp. Horror flooded her senses as she stood frozen. The Dark Mark cast an eerie glow throughout the sky. Its large snake twisted and turned into the eye sockets of its skull, the moonlight emphasizing it from behind.

Flashes of black sped through the sky as Death Eaters descended to the ground. Bone white masks contrasted in the darkness with an unearthly luminescence. Her hands lowered to her neck as breath tightened in her throat, fear widening her eyes.

"Mummy..." Rose whispered, breaking Lily from her terror.

With a pounding heart, she pushed away from the window and rushed towards the innocent faces which now engulfed her vision.

She stared down, clear green eyes shined back at her. She inhaled a deep breath and willed her strength back into her body as she exhaled her nervousness. She could not falter. She had to act. She could not fail her children.

Lily immediately grabbed both of their hands.

"Mummy, what's going on?" Harry wiggled in her grip.

"Don't worry dear, we are just going to go visit Sirius. I forgot something at the party." She tried not to show the fear in her eyes as she looked at Harry.

She evened her breath and clearly visualized Sirius' flat before she attempted to do an emergency apparation. But her spell only fizzled out. Chills rose up her arms as she came to the sickly realization that an Anti-Disapparition jinx had been cast over her home.

"No..."

She couldn't run. She would have to fight until the Order came. As she turned to retreat up the stairs, the front door knob began to rattle. She climbed the staircase; every creaky step sounded like an explosion in her attentive ears. At the top of the stairs, a blast of smoke and debris caused her to stumble. Lily tried to block her children from the rubble as she hit the ground, their cries echoing in the darkness.

"Shhh... shhh... Mummy's here. It's gonna be okay." She whispered again and again. Smoke burned her eyes as she tried to collect herself from the ground. All she had to do was make it ten more steps. She had to make it to the nursery and activate the panic room wards.

Taunting laughter echoed up the stairs. Trembling, she dropped Harry's hand and stretched her fingers toward the door. The cold silver handle was a warm welcome as she turned the knob and rushed inside.

Reaching into her robes she felt the familiar smooth wood as she prepared her mind to activate the spell. The pale yellow walls brightened for a second, signaling that the wards had started.

With wand in hand, she turned and kneeled in front of her son. She stroked tears from his stained cheeks.

"Harry, listen to me. You must take care of Rose, while I call for help."

Harry nodded sharply back, hiccuping, he took his sister's hand and pulled her to the bed.

Standing up Lily took a large breath and imagined Harry's bubbling laughter. She recalled the memory of James chasing Rose throughout the gardens, sunlight dancing off their eyes. Her son's burst of glee as Rose switched directions and attempted to tackle James to the ground. The curve of her husband's lips as he smiled, James twirling their daughter in the blue covered sky.

"Expecto Patronum" Lily voiced. A fully-formed bright-white, translucent doe sprung from her wand.

"Take this message to Order's headquarters. Death Eaters have attacked Godric's hollow. I'm trying to reinforce the wards but I don't know how long they will hold. Please help." The luminous doe nodded before it galloped through the wall leaving a trail of silver glow.

Turning back around, she squeezed between her children, fixated on the doorway she wrapped her arms around them.

Gripping her wand tightly, she began to chant the incantation that would strengthen the nursery's wards, pushing every ounce of her energy into them.

"Mummy, is Daddy coming?" Rose stared up at her with wide eyes.

She kissed the top of her daughters head and gently stroked her hair.

"Yes, help is coming. They're coming."

Harry jerked at her side as the walls began to shake. Lily bit her lip, trying to ignore the pulsing pain in her hand every time the intruders outside blasted against the door. Soft white light glowed at the tip of her wand, flickering every time fervent magic crashed against her spell.

Lily's heart cracked as small hands clutched her robes tightly, her children trembling against the thick fabric. Silent tears rolled down Lily's face as she tried to hold the image of her happy family but the picture cracked and shattered as a large burst of magic rammed down upon her spell, ripping the wand from her hand, throwing it several feet away.

The nursery door creaked open. Cloaked in shadows, Voldemort sauntered forward, with pale lips stretched wide. His dark eyes lacked elliptical pupils, but they still reminded her of a basilisk's gaze, keen with venomous intent and capable of freezing her in terror.

It was as if she were drowning in her own body as it revolted against her control. Her breath quickened, tears blurring her vision. The memory of Marlene's children staring up at her from their child sized coffins flashing across her mind. Their sweet smiles, frozen like clay in deaths icy grip, their eyes forever shut.

A wave of nausea rolled through her stomach as it threatened to empty. Blocking her children from his view, she regained her control and faced Voldemort with quiet resolve.

"Stand aside woman. We both know why I'm here." Voldemort's words cut through her like ice.

A silent sob built in her throat. Wandless and clearly defeated, Lily kneeled in front of Voldemort, pleading for her children's lives. Praying that it might give the Order more time.

"Please, not my children... don't hurt them. Take me, kill me instead -"

"This is my last warning -" Voldemort's voice empty of empathy.

"No! Please ... have mercy ... Don't hurt them. Please... I'll do anything..."

Voldemort's eyes glowed with disgust before a smirk formed on his thin lips. Lily's heart pounded against her chest.

"You know Severus begged me to spare you, I have given you your chance, now I will teach our dear Severus why we do not associate with mudbloods. Sectumsempra." A flash of light sprung from his wand. She did not move, in fear of it hitting her children, who stood behind her.

A sharp intense pain slashed through her. Vision darkening, she looked down at her arms and chest, deep cuts opened across her flesh. Her own blood sprayed across her face and poured down her belly. Staggering backwards, she tried to grab the edge of the bed where Harry and Rose sat, only to collapse onto the carpeted floor. She forced her eyes to open one last time, to see wide terrified eyes looking down at her. Her own mutilated body reflected back from their gazes.

Her last thoughts continued cyclically as a scream sounded unwillingly from her lips, No! Please ... have mercy ... Don't hurt them. Please — I'll do anything...

Screams pulled from her throat as pain devoured her body, her mind slowing failing… she did not see nor hear the killing curse as it soared down at her.

Voldemort gliding past her lifeless form.

**Harry Potter**

Harry watched as his mother fell to the ground, blood spattering across his face. He stood frozen in terror before his mother's screams registered in his mind. He reached out to her. Right as he was inches from touching her face, a flash of blinding green light crashed into her unsteady form. The screams fell silent. His mother stilled.

Harry's small trembling fingers grabbed at her face. Dull green eyes looked back at him. He tried to shake her, to wake her.

"Mummy?"

On his knees, in front of his mother's fallen figure, a smell radiated in the air, reminiscent of the bronze coins that his parents used to buy him candies with as warmth crept through his pajama pants. He kept trying to look at his mother but his brain refused to see what was in front of him. He just continued to shake his mother as thick warm fluid soaked his clothes and pooled around them.

"Get up, Mum. Please… get up." Shivers trembled through his small frame, fear gripping his heart as his sister screamed.

Harry felt anger start to fill his stomach like cold lava as well as a hot fear seep into his bones. He stood up slowly and turned to the man who stood tall, grinning down at his sister's heart clenching cries.

"Leave my family alone!" Harry screamed, his voice thick with emotion.

The lights began to flicker and the window panels started to vibrate with his rage. The man looked away from him and at the lights above.

Harry clenched his hands into fists. A cold chill swept across his skin like marching ants, crawling across his body despite the warm liquid pooling around him.

"Look at me!" Harry yelled. "Don't ignore me! What did you do to my mother!?"

The man's dark eyes stared back, curiosity filling them. He seemed thoughtful for a moment before he chuckled.

"Hmmm... What a waste of raw potential." The man raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra"

Jerking back, Harry tried to dodge the blinding green light. But it rushed towards him, as though a vast, invisible monster was soaring through the air. The spell hit him with more might than he had ever felt, slamming him hard onto the floor. The sensation of marching ants intensified, stinging his skin like frost bite. He struggled, trying desperately to escape the monster's hold. But it only slammed him into the ground, over and over.

His energy drained from his body, his heartbeat slowing as the monster tried to devour him whole. Its icy grip burned at his lungs, when a sharp pain intensified at his forehead. He pressed his face against the hard floors, attempting to lessen the pain as the monster's claws cut sharp into his flesh, carving a lightning bolt into his skin. Harry's chest rose and his hands reached for his face as he scratched at his forehead. Screams erupted from his lips, before a numbing darkness consumed him.

His eyes glazed over, helpless and broken he remained motionless on the floor. He did not hear nor notice the door open or see the pair of black eyes as they gazed inside.

One year later...

The autumn air held the scent of wildflowers, mingled with the scent of pine resin. Surrounded by vibrant bursts of greenery, Harry kneeled in front of his mother's garden, his head cocked slightly to the side. He observed a black beetle as it encroached upon an earthworm.

The beetle's chitin shell gleamed in the morning sunlight, glistening like a precious jewel. With hardened tooth-like pincers the beetle crushed its prey and slowly devoured the earthworm whole. Harry licked at his lower lip with fascination, unware of his hand as it instinctively crept forward. The wind rustled through the trees shaking the remaining leaves on the thick branches. A soft smile spread across Harry's face. He closed his eyes and imagined the sensation of the beetle squirming against the palm of his tightening fist, the sound of it crunching.

Clouds stretched across the sky, casting dark shadows over the land. The word "Monster" echoed throughout his head.

Is that what he was? A monster... His dark passenger certainly liked to tell him so.

Oh yes... his dark passenger loved to tell him that he was special, that he was made for greatness but somehow these comments only made him feel weak and ashamed. It would murmur honeyed words and sickening flattery, always choosing to whisper its praise in the moments where he lost his self-control. When resounding darkness would snake through his mind, dulling his sense of self, forging his primitive desires into a sharpened blade.

Gardening had always helped with his darker urges to destroy. He loved the adrenaline rush he got as he stabbed his shovel into the earth. The shivers of pleasure that would raise the hairs on his arms as he destroyed the plant life. He loved gripping the intruding weeds as he pulled, ripping up their roots. It exhausted his rage and centered his mind. It made him feel in control.

A cool breeze splashed across his face drawing him from his thoughts. A strengthening wind gathered and rolled across the forest, causing the leaves to chatter loudly and a wind chime to toll. Suspended metal rods hung from an autumn blazed maple. Amongst a crowd of evergreen trees, the maple tree stood alone, a bright flame dying in the oncoming winter.

Harry's vision blurred. Biting his lip, he wondered if the beetle would cry if he squeezed it between his fingers. He shook his head trying to clear his mind but it only caused his glasses to slide. He pushed them back in place and he tried to concentrate on laying the new layer of mulch, but the labor didn't help, it wasn't enough. Hesitantly, he reached out and grabbed the beetle between his fingertips. He watched it wiggle around trying to escape. There were no weeds to pull and no new seedling to protect. Only his self-damning desire. It was not spring and the frozen earth brought only death.

Surrendering to the darkness, he pushed down against the shiny outer shell, crushing it tightly in the palm of his hand. Harry smiled at the feeling of black fluids dribbling between his clenched fingers. He released a long sigh of relief, pleasure coursing through him as he stared down at the broken creature.

The faint sound of hissing tickled at the edge of his hearing. Harry froze in place, pleasure dwindled as it twisted together and melted into his fear and regret. An overwhelming sense of helplessness washed over him. Chilling laughter echoed in his mind, his dark passenger announcing its presence. Harry hastily dropped the beetle's corpse and backed away, attempting to hide his misdeed. The laughter only grew.

"Show me more... Give me more..." It whispered, red eyes glowing with delight. "Let me taste your malice... Let me devour your brutality..."

Harry's heart pounded and his hands trembled. He had killed again. He had invoked its interest once more.

Clenching his stained hands, he tried to square his shoulders.

"I didn't do anything wrong."

It began to cackle as sweat beaded at Harry's forehead.

"It was just a Potion's ingredient." Harry whispered, unease churning in his stomach.

"Of course, a Potion's ingredient. What will you harvessst next? The eyes of a cat, the warm blood of a recently desisted dog…" Hunger filled its voice. "The chilled tears of a mudblood crying out for their mother… Oh yes, I can just see the potential."


	2. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story was inspired by the TV show: Dexter and based on J.K Rowling's Harry Potter Universe. Including "The Tales of Beetle the Bard."
> 
> I could not have reached this point without the help of ValwithV, Asylum94, and LucyTheBucktoothTiger. Thank you all so much!
> 
> Rated M for the following: Murder, torture, blood, gore, child abuse, and intense violence.

**Severus Snape**

Severus gripped his broom tightly as he watched his companions descend below him. A small group of masked Death Eaters rushed towards the cottage, blasting the front door open as they neared.

Speeding towards the ground his broom trembled beneath his fingers. With stumbling feet he landed on the cobblestone pathway. He abandoned his broom on the frost covered ground and sprinted towards the wreckage. Paused at the entrance to the cottage he silently observed the debris. His jaw strained; numbing pain filled his limbs as he stared down.

"Welcome home."

The doormat's script curved and looped like the wind. The blustery weather roared with a repentant tone, whipping at his robes and lashing against his penitent skin.

He breathed deeply, shoulders straightening and face smoothing as the cool thrill of the silk cloak of Occlumency fortified his mind. Severus strode into the cottage.

Pettigrew, Travers, and Nott were pulling items from the shelves and pocketing them with haste. Severus cleared his throat gaining their attention.

"Did you have any trouble?" Dark eyes narrowed at Travers' thick grimy hands that held a muggle novel -which he knew was one of Lily's favorite books-the corner of Travers' mouth curled up, he ripped out a page, crushing it in his balled fist.

"So much filth, wouldn't even wipe my ass with this shit."

A sour taste filled Severus' mouth.

"If anyone here is capable… of answering my simple question, please speak up."

Travers looked at Nott and chuckled.

"Nah, no resistance. That little bird was all by herself. You should have seen her run up those stairs. She fell hard." Travers' eyes flashed, licking his lips.

Severus wrestled with internal wrath as his own rage rammed against his shields, quickly he became submerged in a vision- standing over Travers' body Severus watched as the aristocrat struggled against leather strap restraints. Fear widening Travers' eyes as Severus lowered his scalpel, he plucked at sensitive tissues with nerveless ease, the favored tool scraping with practiced precision as it filled the air with the thick scent of human flesh- he almost heard Travers' moaning screams. This was a lullaby in his mind that would steadily fed and sooth his rage. A slow smile built on his face, but he did not hide it – he knew Travers would assume his excitement was due to Lily's fall.

Pettigrew fidgeted beside them breaking Severus out of his thoughts. Stammering; Pettigrew moved forward.

"No one's coming— I sent a false lead. Dumbledore's people are busy chasing a red herring." Pettigrew rambled on, his pitch slowly increasing as sweat beaded at the forehead. A sneer marred Severus' exaggerated features, he watched mucus melt into wide flaring nostrils and pour down Pettigrew's face.

"As if anything you say has worth. Turncoat." Severus snapped.

Nott stepped forward, absentmindedly smoothing out his robes. The flames behind him tinted his hair with hints of gold.

"Well… for now, it seems that his claims hold true. Only the mudblood is here. She put up some weak protective wards. But our Lord is taking care of them."

"Then why, may I ask, are you all still here?"

"Our Lord did not dismiss us," Pettigrew squeaked.

"And he needs…" Severus allowed an eyebrow to rise, "… your help?"

"No-n-no, but-" Pettigrew started.

"You. Are. Unnecessary." Severus' gaze sweeping between all three. "Leave."

Nott's face twisted in disgust as he spoke. "And you? You'll stay to feed your fascination with the Potter bitch? We know what prize you were promised." Travers chuckled as Nott continued to speak with a scowl, "I have no desire to watch you play."

Pettigrew crossed and uncrossed his arms.

"But our Lord said-" Pettigrew jumped as Travers smacked his head. "Ouch! Why did you hit me?"

"To stop you from spewing anymore pathetic nonsense. Our Lord does not need help killing a child. Let Severus have his fun." Travers walked passed Severus and shoved his shoulder. "Lucky bastard."

Severus' cold mask morphed as forced anticipation pooled into his black eyes, he knew that Nott would mistakenly think he had slipped. But he did not make stupid mistakes; only very clever ones. Nott recoiled away and made for the front door; he wrinkled his nose as he muttered half-blood under his breath.

Travers followed, leaving Pettigrew staying behind, now sweating uncontrollably and biting his lip, he glanced briefly towards the exit.

"Still here, Pettigrew?" Severus tilted his head slightly. "One might think you still care."

Pettigrew shook his head, stuttering no as he slowly retreated towards the exit.

The front door shut, notable silence sliced at Severus' hope. He turned slowly to the stairs.

With weary legs, he forced his arms to pull himself up the stair rail. Stepping into the narrow hallway he turned towards a flash of light coming from beneath a door. Crossing the hall he slowly twisted the doorknob. It pricked at his skin like hot needles, blood slowly drawing to the surface. Somehow Voldemort had taken Lily's wards and perverted them into his control; effectively blocking all help. Dread spooled into his stomach. His presence meant nothing. Voldemort did not keep promises.

Severus' mouth went dry as the only woman he ever loved began to scream. The sound of her voice shattered his blank expression as haunting laughter mingled and twisted around it. He covered his face, back pressed against the door, and slowly sunk to the floor.

Each scream echoed through him, sinking deep into his bones with a piercing coldness. He rocked back and forth as his nails dug deep into his scalp. He stared at the ground. His mind began to numb before a flash of green washed over his feet.

No….

Frozen in his mind, he rejected the connection between green light and death. His heart and breath slowed as he stared unseeing and unbelieving. Space and feeling expanded to nothingness—particles broken in a perturbed silence—the connective cords cut between Severus and the world. For one small fraction of time—he was not in hell but suspended beyond—nothing and numb.

Flickering lights from above brought him back. He blinked slowly and turned towards the pictures down the hall as they started to rattle. His heart which he thought could not break any further shattered as he heard a small child sob poignant screams, the sound invaded his very pores, repeating like a broken record.

Another flash of eerie green glowed across the wooden boards. Everything went silent. His arm began to itch, he grasped his sleeve and pulled it up. With a slack jaw he watched as the tattoo that had been burned into his forearm faded.

Hope fueled his strength as he stood, he rushed at the door trying to force it open, only for it to smoothly slide from its frame.

The smell hit first as if a penny was forced into his mouth; copper invading his tongue. With clammy palms he rubbed a thin hand across his face, vision remained blurry— silently replaying every step into that house—he tried to deny the sight in front of him. But he couldn't force himself to turn away and it soon came into nauseating clarity. The floors were splattered with dark blood. Lily lay damaged and broken in the center, cracked and shattered like a white porcelain doll.

He could not think. He could not reason. He could only act.

Crossing the room, he took Lily into his arms. The deep cuts across her arms and chest transfixed his gaze. With trembling fingers he lightly hovered over the wound, understanding it for what it was. He grabbed Lily's pale hand but it only laid limp in his grasp. Her once bright emerald eyes now dull.

"No… no... What have I done?!" Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as inaudible sobs shook his frame. He pulled her close. Fixated on her image he caressed her cheeks and traced the outline of her lips, thumbing away the blood mixed tears that stained her face.

"You weren't supposed to get hurt… You weren't supposed to die…"

Severus had never wished more that he had not succumbed to the Dark Lord's charm.

The weight of his mistake slammed down upon his shoulders. He had to leave. He could not take the feeling of her blood as it burned against his skin, damning his very soul. As he lowered her to the ground familiar green eyes connected with his own. His shoulders tightened, taking notice of the two children in front of him.

The child with eerily familiar auburn hair and emerald eyes sat in front of him, dark blood splattered across her pale skin as tears rolled down round cheeks. With wide eyes, Severus sat frozen, the child's mother still grasped loosely in his arms. The girl mumbled as her eyes darted around. Severus wanted nothing more than to turn and flee but he found himself moving closer. The girl's hushed jargon slowly becoming clearer. Severus sucked in a gasp, Lily's blood now branded his skin; he attempted to turn away as the soft voice invaded his ears.

"You never came… no one did... mummy said you'd come."

Severus jerked away, trying to escape her eyes, he wanted to disappear, to fade. Blood soaked through thick robes, skin burned underneath crimson fluids, it painted his hands and thickened under his fingernails. Smearing dark stains across the carpeted floor, Severus retreated as the small girl watched him with damning eyes.

The sound of heavy footsteps broke him from his nightmare. He jerked his head to the doorway. Someone hurried up the stairs. He knew he could not be found. Severus shook his head, trying to focus. The familiar voices of the Order filled his ears before he apparated away. He never saw the thirteen inch yew wand that laid innocently on the floor.

Severus landed kneeling in his living room, childhood memories lingering around him. He sat in the silence. Lily's blood dried, flaked and fell from his skin. He didn't move. He didn't bathe; this sin would never be washed away. For the child was right, he hadn't come.

**James Potter**

Godric's Hollow cemetery laid behind an old church. The graveyard expanded across the landscape, thick ancient trees twisted throughout the gently rolling hills. At its edge, near a grove of young trees, James Potter stood staring down at his wife's body.

On a swirled black and white marble table she lay surrounded by white roses. Seeing her resting there, in her dress robes, which were just as golden as the rays of sunlight caressing her face, made it appear as if she were only sleeping.

The last four days had been a blur of numbing emotions; he kept expecting to see his wife, to hear her silvery voice.

The night of the attack he had been chasing down a false lead, Dumbledore and his fellow aurors had arrived before him. Due to standard protocol he had not been able to enter his own home. He could have forced the issue but the look on Sirius' face as he carried out Harry and Rose had rooted him. Sirius' expression of pure unfiltered rage, his daughter's tear stained face and his son's haunted eyes had wiped him of any bravery. Yet, now looking down at his beautiful wife he wished he had seen what they had, if only to make it more final.

Behind the grave site sat Harry and Rose. They were in the first row of chairs next to Alice and Frank. All of their friends and family were here, all of their faces stared back at him with pity except one. In the crowd Moony's pale green eyes burned accusingly. James cringed, he knew he should have trusted Remus, maybe then his wife would still be alive. It was hard to grasp that Peter had betrayed them.

Everything felt unreal. This was not a world he belonged in, and yet he could not wake up from the strange dream.

He wanted his wife—he needed his wife!

Dumbledore patted his shoulder gently; signaling him to begin. The ocean of faces drowning him. All expecting him to say a eulogy— all expecting him to say goodbye and he hated them all for it.

James cleared his voice and moved forward. All of their stares eating through his armor. He gripped the podium. With white pressed knuckles he began.

"I want to start off by thanking everyone for being here today. I know my wife would tell me I was being rude if I didn't. She always kept me on my toes." A few people in the crowd smiled, others chuckled nervously.

"That was my Lily, always keeping me in line with her no nonsense ways and her unconditional love. My Lily was a good hearted person who truly loved helping others. That is why she spend so many years towards research, inventing new healing potions. Somehow in all that work and daily chaos she found time to be an amazing mother to our two children and the best wife I could have asked for. I have no idea how to take care of my children by myself. They need their mother." James choked as he stared down, Harry's body engulfed by wrinkled dress robes; his little girl's auburn hair braided with dark lace. Their pale faces looking up at him with confusion and anxiety. He couldn't cry in front of them. He had to be strong.

"I know that everyone here loved her and is going to miss her as well. I think that she is still here with all of us though. Her family, friends and children were her life. She would do anything for her family. She bravely sacrificed her life for our children and I will never forget that." James' voice thickened and a repressed sob shook through his body. Breathing slowly in and out, he concentrated on the chilled wind entering his mouth and the warm puff between his clinched teeth. Collecting himself, he cleared his throat, and retried.

"Thank you everyone, for being here for us."

James looked at Dumbledore and nodded. The old wizard raised his wand and cast the spell to lay her to rest.

James watched as bright, white flames erupted next to Lily's body and the table upon which she lay. Higher and higher they rose, obscuring the body. White smoke spiraled in the air and made strange shapes: James thought, for one heart-stopping moment, that he saw a doe prance joyfully into the blue, but in a second the fire - and with it the doe – had vanished, now encased by marble stone.

James stared down at the marble as his wife's name carved into the stone. A wave of nausea washed over him, the finality of her death all too real in his mind. His knees trembled as he touched the front of her coffin before a small hand covered his. He looked up to see Lily's green eyes staring at him from Harry's face, in the background Alice and Frank attempted to motion Harry back but they did not move closer, wary to interfere.

James smiled sadly at his son. Words had barely passed Harry's lips the last four days. James looked at the red lightning bolt on Harry's forehead. The healers had been able to repair the deep scratches that Harry had self-inflicted while under Voldemort's wand but they had not been able to remove the inflamed cut.

Harry had tried to scratch at his face multiple times since the attack. Administering the calming draught to his struggling son haunted James' waking hours. His heart breaking every time he held small arms down, forcing child-like lips to open. James was jarred from his thoughts as Harry's fingernail indented hand patted his own.

Green eyes stared intensely into hazel ones. His son's small fingers tightening around his arm, pulling him down to meet his gaze.

"Don't worry Dad." Harry slowly stroked his face. "She won't be dead for long."

A chill went down James' spine as he watched Harry smile down at Lily's tombstone. Lost for words, James opened his mouth over and over again, his face pale. He did not know what to say, all he could do was reach out and pulled Harry against his pounding heart.


	3. Fairy Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I could not have reached this point without the help of Asylum94, ValwithV, and LucyTheBucktoothTiger. Thank you all so much!
> 
> This story was inspired by the TV show: Dexter and based on J.K Rowling's Harry Potter Universe. Including "The Tales of Beetle the Bard." ;)
> 
> Rated M for the following: Murder, torture, blood, gore, child abuse, and intense violence.

**Peter Pettigrew**

In an abandoned muggle warehouse, Peter sat on top of grime-streaked floors, shivering as he pressed his back into the mold flecked wall, hoping he would come. His once closest friends and family now fiercely searching for him with vengeance, all while his new allies rejected him with distrust and disgust. He had nowhere to go, no safe place to hide. Chills relentlessly gnawed through his thick layered robes.

A dog barked in the distance.

Peter jerked and stiffened; icy blue eyes flashing across his memory.

He huddled forward and started a small fire, rubbing the warmth back into his fingertips, he tried to dismiss his fear. The flames cast a soft glow across the building, his face turned upwards as the light revitalized the cold metal walls.

Garbage clattered and echoed across the cement floors. Peter stumbled up and attempted to cast out the flames. Something thudded against the pavement, Tap tap tap, growing nearer every second.

Peter's face paled as his legs weakened underneath him, his nose already developing mouse-like whiskers.

A familiar man strode towards him, a walking stick in hand. Tap tap tap. Releasing a held breath, Peter brought his hand to his temple, whiskers shrinking back. Hope brightened his face. He had come!

Impeccably dressed and with an air of aristocratic elegance; Lucius sneered at his surroundings.

"Such filth..." Lucius wrinkled his nose, his cold steel eyes cutting into Peter.

"You came! I didn't think anyone would," Peter prattled. "You must believe me… I'm no traitor! You know those rumors of my betrayal are not true. You have to see that, I gave up everything for him." Peter hated begging but he was good at it and forced tears to come forward knowing it would empower his plead.

"Ahh, yes. I'm sure you had nothing to do with it. But… you see, the others do not trust you. Of course, I could help you with this." Lucius flashed perfect white teeth in a predatory grin. Peter thought it was meant to be reassuring but it only reminded him of the cat that had once tried to devour him in his animagus form.

He fidgeted under Lucius' stare, the man smiled silently, only gesturing for him to answer. Peter turned his head away.

"What do you want? What do I have to do, to gain the others' trust?"

"See, that's what I love to hear. Your undying loyalty," Lucius drawled.

Peter's cheeks flushed.

Lucius neared. "Show me your loyalty, do as I say and I will help you." Long white fingers curved around Peter's shoulder, digging into his bone like grindylow claws. "But should you fail, you will die."

Knees wobbling, Peter nodded.

If only this beast's grasp was as easily broken. Thunder shook the walls around them as rain began to patter across the metal shingles. Peter knew he had no choice. He knew how the world worked.

Only the strongest survived.

"Tell me what I must do."

**Sirius Black**

Sirius arrived at Godric's Hollow with a soft thump of his motorcycle as it landed onto the driveway. He parked it beside the shrubbery that lined the home and walked up to the front door.

Only a month had past since Halloween. Even though the door had been replaced and the entrance repaired, the attack still lingered. Ivy vines snuck under the hedging and continued into the wildly grown grass, their caretaker now gone. Sirius observed the new door frame in silence, he took a deep breath in and knocked.

Sirius had never been the type to wait for his best friend and today was no different. He strode into the foyer and turned into the kitchen. James sat at the table, chewing at the tip of a quill while he sorted through a pile of paperwork. Rose sat in James' lap, quietly playing with a stuffed dog that Sirius had given her for her fourth birthday back in April. Sirius smiled at the memory with fondness before speaking.

"You ready Prongs?"

James looked up and blinked slowly. Sirius' eyebrows furrowed.

"You alright?"

James shook his head and placed the quill onto the table.

"Yeah, it's just filing Lily's death on paper seems so wrong."

Sirius nodded heavily in return.

"Wizengamot will be open tomorrow. If you need more time, I can come back later."

"No, no. I need to get this done. I just have to grab something upstairs."

"Alright, if you're sure."

"I am." James stood up, juggling Rose who clung to his side. "Look who's here? Uncle Padfoot came over to play."

Rose's previously firm grip loosened as she wiggled down James' side. She ran across the kitchen into Sirius' out reached arms. He pulled her up and then spun her around in the air. Ruffling her short auburn hair, he placed her gently onto the ground.

He caught James staring at them with a sad smile. Sirius moved closer and gently patted James' shoulder. Rose moved behind them, matching each step.

"I got this. Go take care of yourself," Sirius said.

"Thank you." James looked down at his daughter, the corner of his eyes wrinkling with worry. Sirius began to wonder; was Rose's separation anxiety getting better or worse. His goddaughter had refused to be alone a moment since Lily's death. The dark rings under his best friend's eyes had only darkened since last time he had seen him. James needed to sleep.

"It's no problem," Sirius replied. "Oh and maybe take a shower while you are at it. You look like a goblin."

James laughed lightly before he punched his arm. "Alright, but don't go burning my house down."

"What! You gonna charge me a fee?" Sirius waved James up the stairs. "Go take a shower!"

They both shared a grin before James turned towards the stairs.

Sirius looked down at Rose.

"So, where's your brother?"

"Harry's reading."

"Reading huh? Well, we gotta put a stop to that." He winked.

Rose giggled and nodded as she ran ahead of him towards the living room.

The child that had often been on Sirius' mind, sat at the sofa in the living room, the very place that Lily used to read her children books. Harry clutched a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard in his hands. The boy shared similar dark rings around his eyes but what caught Sirius' attention the most was the stony look that Harry was directing towards him. Sirius opened his outer robes and reached into his breast pocket.

"Hey, Harry!" Sirius pulled out a large bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, determined to see his godchild smile. "Wanna see who gets the boogie flavored bean first?" Sirius grinned. But as time went on it slowly started to fade, Harry only stared silently in return.

"Sorry Pup, did I interrupt you? You'd think Lily would have broken me of that one by now." Sirius' stomach hardened as he realized what he had said.

He glanced around the room for Rose. She only continued to play. Silently, he thanked Merlin that she had not heard her mother's name. It would have only caused tears.

Sirius turned back to Harry. "Uh...Which story are you reading? Babbitty Rabbitty was always my favorite."

Harry seemed to consider his question before he placed the book on his lap.

"I'm reading The Three Brothers. I'm going to trick Death and get him to bring back Mum." With his chin high and his shoulder back, Harry stared directly at him with a knowing grin.

Sirius' smile faltered as he struggled for words.

"Harry… you know they're just stories, right? The Deathly Hallows and the fictional character Death don't exist. It's… just a fairytale." Regret immediately flooded his senses. Harry's face fell and twisted.

"No… You don't understand." Harry leaned his back into the chair and stared down at his hands. "Mum has to come back."

Rose stood up, her stuffed animal hanging at her side.

"Harry?" She moved closer. "Can you really do that?"

Sirius watched as Harry turned towards his sister, the boy's shoulders tightened under his sister's hopeful gaze. Harry stood up, instinctively Sirius took a step back, flinching at the sound of Harry's book hitting the ground. Raised in front of him, Harry stood tall from the sofa seat, his chin lowered and his eyes cold.

"You don't know what I can do. You know nothing of my potential." Harry smiled softly at his sister. "I can do it. But it might take a while."

Sirius' stomach churned, the golden pocket watch that was once in his robes now warmed the palm of his hand. Silently, he hoped James wouldn't take too long of a shower. He had never been good with serious stuff. Still he tried for James' children.

"You can't reverse death but your mother's love and memories will remain. She will always be here." He placed a hand over Harry's heart.

His godson's face paled, he retracted from his touch, his body beginning to shake. Sirius frowned with worry.

"Harry…Are you alright?"

Harry's fingers began to rise, hovering slightly over his scar. Sirius cautiously stretched his hand out, an ache building in the back of his throat, tightening it with dread.

"Harry, please don't..." Sirius tried.

Harry's hands paused but his fingernails remained pressed firmly against the inflamed scar.

"You're wrong. She has to come back. She has to make it go away." Harry lowered his body, now sitting, he bought his knees to his chest. "It hurts. It hurts so much." Hands still hovering over his pale face.

Sirius didn't know what to do but he knew Harry was in pain. Closing the distance, he took Harry tightly into his arms and rubbed small circles into Harry's back as he tried to force his own tears away.

"Shh… It's okay. You're safe now."

Harry's breathe quickened and his fingers twitched. "You're a liar. I'm not safe"

"Harry, stop!"

But it was too late. Harry's nails pressed down deep into his flesh, splitting the skin.

Hastened with alarm, Sirius broke the hug and grasped at Harry's arms. The boy's strength was startling. Sirius' heart pounded against his chest, fear lapping at his strength, the room spun as Harry's self-inflicted wounds began to stream red. The memory of his blood soaked godchildren now drowning his vision. With breath quickening, Sirius tightened his hold, bruising pale skin, he pulled the boy's fingernails from his scratched face; Sirius' arms shaking with panic induced terror.

"Harry… Stop! I'm hurting you." Sirius' voice quivered.

"She can't be gone. She can't..." Harry's body shook like his very foundation had crumbled apart, pulling against his robes, Harry placed his cheek against Sirius' chest, warm tears soaking through the fabric.

Cupping Harry's head, Sirius drew the small unsteady child close and pulled them to the ground. Back pressed against the sofa, Sirius cradled the body, rocking them back and forth.

"No one is ever going to hurt you again. I won't let them," Sirius vowed.

A small pale hand reached out and grasped Harry's. Rose's emerald eyes shining with tears, a fleeting hope still wavering in her wide eyes.

Sirius watched the boy's cheeks flush with shame, and Harry began to roughly push at his hold in a second bout of panic. Sirius slowly released him.

Standing up, Harry pulled Rose into his arms. "I'm sorry."

Shivers ran up Sirius' neck prickling at his skin, watching with wide eyes as Harry gently brushed his little sister's hair back and pressed his lips to her heart-shaped face, perfectly mimicking his mother's movements.

Sirius gently patted Harry's back. "You have nothing to be sorry for." The boy glared at him but Sirius continued. "I know it hurts but the pain will only make you stronger."

Harry inched away from his sister and began to rub at his bleeding scar. "When?"

Sirius caught his arm.

"Harry, look at me." Harry leaned back but his stare never strayed, even when Sirius squeezed his shoulders. "You have to be brave!"

With a downcast face, Harry turned away. His gaze ashamedly averted as teeth pinched his bottom lip, tears glistening in his emerald eyes.

"I'll try," Harry whispered.

"That's my boy." Sirius squeezed his shoulders once more before pulling his wand out and silently casted a cleansing spell. Once Harry's face was cleaned of blood and tears, he then turned to Rose.

"You okay?"

Rose moved slowly to Harry and nodded. Sirius' chest felt heavy, the weight of their sadness thumping against his heart. All he wanted was to see was their smiles.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Mum would make us hot chocolate," Rose smiled shyly.

Sirius nodded. Finally something he knew how to do! "Alright then. Hot chocolate it is."

Sirius headed towards the kitchen missing the frantic pleading voice as Rose questioned Harry further. Sirius went through each cabinet searching for the cocoa powder. He finally found the jar in the last cabinet and began to hunt for a pot, when a piercing scream filtered into his ears.

He dropped the pot and rushed towards the noise. In the foyer, he pulled himself to a stop, almost colliding with Harry as the boy bolted past him and ran up the stairs. But the sound was not coming from Harry, it was coming from Rose.

Sirius rushed into the living room, once neat it now looked as if a gust of wind had blown through it. Books laid around in disarray and in the center of the room sat his goddaughter, sobbing and clinging tightly to the stuffed black dog. Black and red thread streamed over her pale hands as cotton poured from the dog's now headless body.

"What happened?"

Rose crashed into his arms.

"I didn't mean to," Rose cried.

"What are you talking about? Who did this?" Sirius fumbled through his thoughts trying to grasp onto anything.

"Harry," Rose whispered, fear lingering in her voice.

Harry? Was his Godson hurt too? The thought of Harry chasing the cause of whatever damaged the toy crossed his mind.

Pulling away from the shaky girl, he rushed towards the stairs. On the second floor, inside Harry's bedroom Sirius stood staring. Model quidditch players lined the bookshelves, dragon figurines littered the floors and walls glowed with painted stars.

With a sharp intake of air, Sirius took a step back, his eyes widening. Harry sat in the middle of the bed surrounded by bits of cotton. Furiously, he continued to pull pieces of fiber from the decapitated head, throwing bits to the ground, whitening the surface like blood flecked snow. Harry paused bloodstained fingers, lips pulled back, teeth gleaming white.

"Why?" Sirius whispered.

Harry's emerald eyes flashed.

"Rose has to realize that her dumb dog can't save her. Everything's a lie. Nothing will keep you safe." Harry dropped the severed head onto the floor in front of him.

"I have to make sure she knows Fairy tales don't exist." Harry lightly touched his hand to his face. "Only monsters."


	4. Darkness and light

**Peter Pettigrew**

Peter scurried across the distinctly shabby corridor that housed Wizengamot Administration Services. His furry paws clicked against dirty tile floors. It was business hours, people hurried back and forth, men and women brutally scratching feathered quills against thick parchment papers, mind-numbingly stacking and organizing endless paperwork. The smell of ink and sweat filled his sensitive nostrils. Nose twitching, he tried to dismiss the massive amounts of dust.

He didn't miss small cubicles or the large piles of paper columns.

Trying to prevent suspicion, Peter kept to the edge of the walls. He smirked at the charmed paper airplanes flying through the air. The Ministry's no owl policy had never crossed his mind, but today he was very aware and grateful for it.

Paused under a desk he caught his breath. A young woman with tight black robes and a short skirt tripped across the floor. Papers scattered in front of him. Briefly, he wondered if her head was as empty as his mother's.

A flash of white undergarments froze his thoughts, a sick stab of arousal stirred in his belly as his gaze traced along pale legs. As the young witch gathered herself and started to collect paperwork, Peter lost himself to fantasies. Still bent down, she brushed the dirt from her robes. By accident her gaze found his, her eyes now wide.

Peter's moment of longing was interrupted by a shrill scream. Quickly, he fled as people around her tried to discover the source of her panic. Fear drove through his body, his paws rapidly thudding across the ground.

Peter had risked a lot by coming during business hours but security at night was far stronger. He had no choice.

"Fail and die…"

Finally, he made it to the back room where countless files of paperwork lined the walls, papers magically went to and from the cabinets. Quickly transfiguring back to his natural state, flicked his wand and concentrated on the filing system. Never before had he experienced such joy from secretarial work.

Papers flew into his outstretched hand, Peter smiled as triumph shined in his eyes.

**Neville Longbottom**

Palm pressed against his cheek, Neville stared out the large windows of Longbottom Manor. Blonde hair wisped in front of his hazel eyes. Clouds moved across the morning sky as sunshine filtered into the large dining room.

"Frank? Could you pass the eggs?" His mother smiled across the formal dining table towards his father.

"Of course, honey. Wingardium Leviosa." The dish gently levitated to his mother. After she spooned out a second portion, she returned to her shopping list.

Neville eyed his father's wand, he longed to grasp the smooth wood between his fingers, if only to pretend to cast a spell. Hogwarts was only two years away but he couldn't wait. He had to know. Tapping his foot, anxiety filled him, his Gran's hurtful words already pouring into his subconscious.

"Are you sure he's not a squib? Everyone else's grandchildren are already showing signs."

Neville's face flushed before he shook his head and glared down at his plate, he took another bite of bacon. He was sure that Gran would also comment about his second portions but he didn't care, his mum's bacon was delicious. He savored the salty goodness as it filled his mouth.

Paper hit the table, breaking him from his short-lived pleasure. Neville looked up at his father, who was pulling his hands through his short brown hair.

"Alice, have you read The Daily Prophet?" Frank's voice cracked, and increased in volume with each word.

Struggling against the urge to fidget in his seat, Neville eyed his mother over his glass of orange juice. Alice rose from the table, eyes already weary, she headed over to his father in a series of dread-steps, twisting her wedding band as she went. After a moment's glance at the front page she placed her hand gently on his father's shoulder.

"How could they let Karkaroff go? After what he did to Fabian and Gideon Prewett!" His father's voice thickened. "Is five Death Eater names really worth the cost of Molly's justice?"

Alice squeezed his shoulder. "You know how the ministry works. All they care about is positive publicity." Alice pulled out a golden pocket watch and stared down at the Latin script that ran across its front. "At least they got Travers', Merlin knows he deserves the kiss after what he did to the McKinnons."

"It still doesn't make it right! We all know Karkaroff's guilty!" Frank jerked Alice's hand from his shoulder.

"You're right, it doesn't." Lip pinched between teeth, Alice stared at the floor.

Neville watched the argument in silence, stomach turning with unease. Why did his parents have to argue? Wasn't the war over?

Muttering now, his mum continued to try comfort his dad but Frank only grew increasingly angry.

A sudden sensation of ice flooded his veins. Something was wrong. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his parents' faces now pale and blank. Had they felt it too?

"The wards. They've collapsed." Alice whispered. "How did they find us?"

"I don't know…." His father responded softly.

His mother turned swiftly towards him. "We're being attacked, you have to hide!"

The urgency and force in his mother's tone uprooted him from his chair causing him to stumble forwards.

"Mum?"

But his mother only started to push him towards the hallway as his father ran out of the dining room towards the entrance of the manor.

"No, Frank wait!" His mother cried reaching out. She turned back to him, hand clutching her chest. "Hide, I'll come for you when it's safe."

Neville only stood frozen as his mother laid a kiss on his forehead before she turned around and ran out of view.

Fear slowly settled into his belly before he forced himself to shake his head, attempting to clear his thoughts, Neville turned towards the hallway. His pace increased with each step. Every flickering flame from the oil lanterns that lined the walls sent shivers down his spine. Their dim glow stretched across the swirling patterns of the antique rug that ran through the hallway, making the walls appear as if they were closing in around him, each doorway causing his heart to pound faster. He couldn't think. He didn't know where to hide.

A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the walkway turning his face ashen. The pattering of footsteps sounded. He froze. Someone was coming. Adrenaline coursed through him, he rushed towards the closest door and grabbed its brass handle. Pulling it open, he rushed through the doorway, quickly closing it behind him. With his back pressed against the cool wooden surface, breath puffed in and out.

The manor's kitchen stood in front of him. Glowing embers from earlier that morning still burned from the oven, lighting the room. Neville stifled a sob before he rushed towards the cabinets, marble floors chilling his hands as he crawled into the small space.

Floating in the void of darkness he found himself in a world of breath and the beat-thump of his ticking heart. Unbalanced in the heavy silence he began to shake. His chin dropped to his knees, slumped forward he tightly wrapped his arms around himself. Now hidden, uncertainty crushed at his heart. Were those his parent's screams? Were they hurt? Should he have really ran?

The groaning of the door hinges resounded through the kitchen. Neville's muscles stiffened.

"Where are you little mouse?" A high-pitch cackle of a woman echoed. "I know you're in here!" She sung.

The clicking of high heels tapped against the marble. Slowly it became louder. Click… Click.. Click.

Raising his hands to cover heavy breath, elbows collided into the baking sheet behind him. The sharp sound of metal clanked together; shattering the silence.

.Click.

Light flooded into the cabinet. With wide eyes, Neville attempted to push himself backwards. An image he had only seen in newspapers, now stood tall in front of him.

With thick, shining dark hair, long eyelashes and heavily hooded eyes, Bellatrix Lestrange cocked her head to the side. "Looky here, an itty bitty baby Longbottom."

She kneeled down, her hand brushing up the side of the cabinet, robe sleeves dropping to her elbows. The infamous skull tattoo pale across her skin.

Desperately, Neville palmed the sides of the cabinet, blindly searching for a way out, but only wooden walls were found.

A stifled sob rose in his throat as a cold sweat broke out across his body.

"Don't be afraid baby. I'm only here to bring you to your parents." Her voice floated across the air like a sickly sweet perfume. She reached towards him. Neville pushed flush against the wooden walls. He knew he was trapped and he could tell she knew it too by her grin. In his panic he stumbled forward, shuffling pass her. Long nails scraped against his skin before feet pounded across the marble. Hope flashed in his eyes before his body crashed into the door. His fists slammed against the solid oak; it did not budge.

Bellatrix's laughter rang in his ears. Neville continued to pound against the door, ignoring the pain in his fists, he beat them bloody on the hard surface.

"Oh children are just so much fun." Her long curly hair draped across her breasts as she twirled it between her fingers. "Don't worry itty bitty baby. We've just begun." She pointed her wand towards him. "Crucio."

Neville jerked to the ground, twisting his ankle as he dropped to the floor, red light crashed above his head. His heartbeat thumping hard against his chest.

"Maybe you're not so fun after all." Bellatrix pointed her wand.

Swiftly, Neville pushed himself from the ground, but pressure sent waves of pain crashing down his damaged ankle. Hands now slick with fallen sweat slid, face smacking cold marble. Laying on the ground, high heels drew closer. Click… Click... Click.

Fingers clawed through his hair, tightening into a fist and pulled him upwards. Scalp burning and ankle pulsing, he struggled against her grip.

The crack of skin contacting flesh echoed off stone walls.

Vibrations of pain started in his cheek and spread, his vision now obscured from the impact. With half-closed eyes he watched her tongue dart out and lick blood from her jeweled fingers.

Neville's chest tightened, breath returning as uncontrollable sobs overwhelmed him.

"Why are you crying?" Bellatrix's eyebrow rose. "Don't you want to see your mummy?"

Hope fluttered like butterflies in the deepest crypts of his mind, swallowing up his candid heart, he drowned in its pulsing gleam. Neville nodded his head.

"Then smile." She pulled Neville by his robes and pressed him against the counters. "We're having fun!"

Red coals from the stone oven warmed his skin, his breath only increasing in pace as Neville tried to force his frozen terror into a damaged smile.

"See, when you smile, no one sees your tears." She stroked his stained cheeks. "Let's fix you up. I'm sure the others are growing impatient."

Bellatrix clutched the iron handle of the oven, Neville's vision tunneling, pupils' shrinking as red light washed over him, his knees weakening as the heat blasted against his face.

Hovering her fingers quickly over red coals, she grinned. "Yes, this will make such a pretty red ribbon."

She gripped at his hair once more, struggling against her hold he scratched at her hands. His neck stiff, she pulled his head towards the fire.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening…

"Please… I'll smile, I'll smile." Neville sobbed, tears dribbled across his lips, sizzling against the coals. "Please…don't!" Dizziness overwhelmed him as the heat began to burn his eyes and smoke scorched at his nostrils. Blinding pain formed starburst across his skin. The side of his face searing against the coals, striking his senses and blackening his vision.

A loud sound rung through the kitchen. Bellatrix moaned, her grip loosening as her body weight pulled him down. He cried out as his cheek hit the blessedly cool floor. Flesh expanding and bubbling underneath his skin, a sulfurous odor mixed with the scent of charcoal, he laid silently there in shock, tears rolling over his face, the salt only adding to his pain. Two large eyes stared down at him from above, watery blue and filled with fierce worry. His focus now on the cast iron pan still in the creature's oversized hands.

"Penne?" He coughed, reaching out he tried to grasp for the house elf. Pain slugged his movements.

"Master Neville must go. The bad woman will be up soon." Penne hastily pulled off the dark haired witch and gently grabbed his arms, tugging him across the room. Black spots blurred his vision. He could only hear the snap of her fingers and the struggle of her breath as she pulled him. His back scraped against the edge of a passage before his skin glided against a cold metal passageway. With another snap the light dimmed around them. She continued to drag him along.

Neville glanced around in confusion.

"Penne, where are we?" He questioned. The house elf dropped him, he fell onto the metal ground before she quickly brought her hands to his mouth and covered it.

"Master must be quiet. Penne brought you to the ventilation ducts. Oh Penne is a bad house elf. Penne will not touch master." She whispered rapidly and quickly pulled her hands away.

"Where's Mum? Dad?" Neville whispered fiercely back.

Penne's eyes filled with huge tears and started to stifle a sob. "Penne could not help them. There are too many."

Neville paused and felt his heart stop. No, they couldn't be. "Penne, are they…. are they dead?"

Penne looked away for a moment before letting out a soft, "No…"

A sigh of relief escaped his lips. "Where are they? You have to take me to them."

Penne shook her head. Her whole figure trembled in pain as she started to forcefully pull on her bat-like ears. "Master Neville, it's not safe. Master could get hurt."

Neville opened his mouth to argue before a distant scream echoed around him sending shivers down his spine. His eyes widened.

"No...Mum-"

He knew he should have stayed with Penne but he could not stop, ignoring the aching pain in his face and swollen ankle, he crawled on all fours towards the sound of his parent's screams. Louder and louder the screams grew, until they muted Penne's desperate pleads to turn back.

Darkness faded as he neared. Light poured from the metal vent opening as dust danced through the air. He pressed his hands against the vent and looked out.

Only meters away, his parents laid bounded by rope, with clothes disheveled and eyes distant. Neville's lips trembled, his gaze followed streams of blood as it poured out of his mother and father's nose, trickling down their lips and across their pale throats. He jerked as a man spoke, eyes darting to the three people standing around his parents.

"How boring…" Drawled out a man with icy blue eyes.

"Shut up Rabastan." Snapped a younger man with straw-colored hair before turning towards Neville's father. "Where is he? What did you do with our Dark Lord?" he yelled, spittle building up in the corners of his mouth.

Neville's chest tightened as he watched his father struggle against his binds and stutter through blood soaked lips. "He is de...de eaad."

His father's answer only enraged the man more.

"You're lying! I know you're lying, you filthy blood traitor. You did something!" The man neared and pulled his father up by the front of his robes. "Why was our Lord so interested in your son and the Potter heir? Tell me the truth! Tell me!" His father's head lopped to the side, passing out from the pain. "ANSWER ME!" The man shook his father back and forth.

"Barty, calm down. You're not going to get them to talk like that." Spoke the last man.

Barty turned towards the man, his breath coming out in fast pants. "Rodolphus, why don't… you… let me... take care of this?" Barty hissed before he dropped Neville's father to the hard floor. "And what the hell is taking your wife so long? We need the boy."

Neville's body shook, uncontrollable tremors jerked his muscles as his throat tightened. They were there for him? This was his fault? He grasped at his throat; he tried to suppress his terror.

Barty turned back to Neville's father, "Now, where were we?" Barty rubbed his hands together. "Oh yes, Rennervate."

Neville's lips parted. His throat thickened.

With heavy breaths his father reached out towards his mother, Frank's hand trembled with effort as he attempted to shield her.

Barty cackled.

"Crucio."

His mother screamed.

The world spun around Neville; his pain, the sounds of his parent's screams and their blood poured and blended all around him. Lost in terror, fear, pain… Someone grabbed him.

Warm hands stroked his face, the scent of old linen and soap filled his senses. Slowly his vision cleared, two large watery eyes stared down at him. Silently the house elf tried to comfort him, her oversized hands covering his ears, she attempted to muffle out the screams of his parents. Neville's body shook with silent sobs as Penne's own tears dripped down onto his face.

He laid there lost in his own infernal hell.

**Harry Potter**

Inside the small cottage, on the first floor, Harry and his sister sat on a large centered rug, imaginary castle grounds knitted together as they pushed together sofa pillows and stretched them upwards to form spiraling towers around them, blue fabric robes dissolved into deep moats. A doll wrapped in pink sat at the top as Harry pushed his knight forward. A large orange dragon flew from the sky and landed in front of him. Rose wiggled the plush dragon and attempted to roar. The curve of Harry's mouth lifted and he began to laugh.

"What kind of roar is that?" Harry teased.

Rose's nose wrinkled. "The kind that breathes fire!" She snapped back and began to hit the knight with her dragon's plush face.

"I thought you said fire." Harry's eyebrow rose. "Why are you eating him instead?" Harry laughed as she smacked him. Door hinges squeaked. A stream of light poured into the room. It was not their castle's gate. The foyer brightened. Rose jerked, her eyes widening. Their play now interrupted.

A tall thin woman entered as his father held the door open and greeted the stranger.

"Thank you, for coming early." James took her hand and smiled brightly. She nodded in turn.

"Harry… Rose… This is Ms. Meredith."

The woman stood tall at the entrance of the room, her sharp-featured face smooth and pale, dressed in robes perfectly pressed and hair fastened in an unnaturally tight bun, she turned towards his little sister and gave her a tight-lipped smile. Joy turned to ash inside his mouth.

Rose smiled shyly back at her. Harry placed a light hand over her shoulder but Rose only shrugged him off. Harry grimaced, the last week had been difficult. His sister had not taken lightly to her dog being destroyed. Fearful emerald eyes followed him for days... He had only been trying to protect her but sometimes, she just made him so angry…

She had not quite forgiven him, but his offer to begrudgingly let her be "the beautiful princess" instead of a knight had warmed her into playing with him again. Now looking at their kingdom, he wondered why he had bothered. She wasn't any good at protecting the castle, she even once tried to make the dragon kiss the princess. She was so gross.

Ms. Meredith cleared her throat, trying to catch his attention and motioned at his father, who just continued to stare around nervously.

Harry's eyebrows knitted together. "Why is she here?"

His father started. "I can't keep dropping you off at the Weasleys..."

Harry nodded slowly, he glanced back to the woman noticing for the first time the suitcase at her side. His stomach clenched into knots. Suddenly Mrs. Weasley's words echoed through his head.

"James, have you considered hiring a nanny?"

Harry shook his head, his father wouldn't do that, he wouldn't give up on their mother so quickly…

"Harry, she is here to take care of you and Rose while I'm at work. She's going to be your Nanny." James said.

Harry lowered his head breaking eye contact with his father, his lips now pressed tightly together.

Ms. Meredith walked up to them, eyes darting up and down their clothing. Harry grabbed Rose's small hand and pulled her closer. Rose whined but hushed as he started to stroke her wild red hair. Ms. Meredith tisked her tongue at them.

"It's clear that you need help, Mr. Potter."

Harry faced his father expectedly. James shot a glare at her but then frowned towards them.

"It's been hard." James appeared fine, except there was a tightness at the jaw, his chin slightly quivering.

Harry tilted his chin upwards and straightened his shoulders. "I don't need a Nanny. I can take care of myself. I can take care of Rose."

"Now Harry, don't be like that. You know I have to work. I cannot keep asking our friends. We need a Nanny." His father ran his hands through his untamed Potter hair.

A sense of dread and betrayal caused Harry to press his lips together again. He could feel tears beginning to burn at the corners of his eyes. Why did they need a nanny? Why couldn't he just take care of them? Harry wanted her gone.

A sudden wave of nausea washed across him as anger hissed to the surface. Not only had his father given up on their mother, he was now trying to replace her. His small hand tightened around the toy knight, pushing it painfully into his palm.

"Harry... Please don't look at me like that. You know…"

Harry could not hear another word coming from his father's mouth. He stepped forward, his muscles tense with rage.

"No, make her leave. I don't need a nanny. I don't need her!" His volume increasing with every word.

Malicious thoughts weaved throughout his mind. Hurt her... Harry heard it whisper. His hands trembled, he tried to resist the darkness.

"My, my, what a temper your boy has." Ms. Meredith's eyes narrowed.

Heat flushed through Harry's small frame. Glaring, he threw the toy with all his strength. The toy flew through the air before it curved away with the flick of her wand. The knight crashed into the wall beside her, landing on the floor broken.

"Please forgive my son's nasty behavior. He is just having a hard time adjusting." James stood behind him gripping his shoulder in warning.

Harry's anger started to fade into a numbing pain. He frowned at his father's words. Was he really nasty? Was he really bad?

"No, Mr. Potter it's okay. Children will be children. Don't worry, he will learn soon enough." Mrs. Meredith's lips curled upwards.

A sense of déjà vu sprung across his mind; like a distant memory. Flashes of gray walls and an iron fence painted across his vision before it quickly faded into darkness. Rage uncoiled around his mind and drew up as if to strike. It wanted to make the woman before him scream. It wanted to make her suffer. To bleed… Harry's finger twitched causing his pulse to quicken. He shook his head in refusal.

He needed his mother.

Harry backed away, reluctantly letting go of Rose's hand as he ran through the foyer and out the door. His heart guiding him towards the last place he still felt his mother's presence.

The landscape grew over him, the branches of the trees swaying in the cold wind. Quickly he weaved in and out of the pebble stone pathways. Thin tree branches smacked his face as he entered the edge of the forest on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow. His father's pleading for him to return fading with each step.

Vast and wide, the forest stretched out before him, he tracked across its soft rolling slopes. There was no clear path before him but he didn't need one, he knew every crevice in these lands. Soil underneath his feet began to loosen and moss crept across the ground, small red shoots sprung from the fern carpeted floors, like small red hands reaching for light.

A spring trickled along the grooves of the forest, sunlight dancing and pouring over large beds of stone. Harry crouched down, small yellow boots sunk deep into the muddy bank. He plunged hands into icy water. The spring flowed gently through his fingers as the tips brushed across slimy green stones. The frigid water stung at his skin, but the sensation went unnoticed. Leaning forward, his eyes filled with wonder.

Black and yellow flashed from the other side of the bank. Slowly creeping forward, he carefully placed each foot on the slippery stones. Once he was on solid ground, he found the source of colour. A fire salamander lay sunbathing on top of a decomposing log. Harry started towards it. A burst of childlike laughter erupted from his lips as he chased it along the creek-side, a lightness filled his belly as colouring blurred with the wind and mud coated his hands from the unsuccessful attempts. His last reach fell short as the black and yellow amphibian began to wiggle its way under a large stone.

Desperately the creature tried to hide.

Standing above the stone; he stared down at it, the light flutter in his belly now twisted into knots. A bitter smile stretched across his face, he lifted his foot from the earth and pressed it lightly against the rock. The amphibian began to struggle against the weight.

"Hiding doesn't work…" Harry whispered. His mother's terror filled eyes flashing across his vision.

He pushed down. The creature tore between earth and unforgiving stone. Even in death the nerves still twitched and fired; its tail still turning. Harry frowned, the dead didn't move. Twitching remains smeared across the ground as Harry wiped the sole of his boot against the top of the stone and walked on.

Ahead the trees thinned. A circular row of pine and birch trees sculpted the wind and stunted the cold. Green eyes softened, head tilted upwards as his face relaxed. The sunlight beamed through the dispersed tree tops, warming his skin. Standing in his own private oasis, Harry smiled. Vibrant greenery quilted the floor and climbed up the trees.

Joy bloomed inside his heart. His mother's Curare vines twisted and turned around his body, he let his pain… his fear… all go and fell backwards into the garden bed. Moss cushioned his fall. Heart-shaped leaves kissed against his face. Reaching up, he caressed the plant, drops of dew glided down the leaf and fell onto his cheek. With half closed eyes he released a sigh. Distant words echoed in his head.

"The curare vine have only been used to cause suffering and pain, but I found a way for it to heal!" His mother smiled brightly down at him, her eyes sparkled with delight.

Harry's hand raised to his aching heart, he longed to see his mother's smile; even if only for a second.

His arms and legs stretched out across the earth as he breathed in the smell of decaying leaves, a gentle fog of peace drifted deep into his soul. Even if it was only temporary; he felt safe. His breath began to slow and even out. All of his anger, all of his hatred cleared but doubt and fear still oscillated at the edge of his mind.

He had to be stronger. His dad and sister relied on it, tiredness crept deep into his bones. Tears burned at the edge of his vision before he violently wiped them away.

He couldn't be weak.

Harry looked over his mother's garden and felt his strength renew as he took in its beauty. Unlike most, he knew what surrounded him. His mother's lessons lived on in him. He did not just see plants, he saw an herbal tincture that would ease terrible pain, a remedy for the werewolf's lunar cycle, an herb that would ward off Dementors, a Dragon pox's preventive… Yes, he understood, and that's why he knew his mother would want her garden to be in perfect condition when she returned.

With new determination he pulled himself up. He scowled down at the weeds that were already creeping into his mother's garden. He ripped the first weed from the hard earth. He continued to rip each intruder from the ground. Over and over he pulled, until his lungs began to burn and his arms and hands started to shake.

"She's coming back… She's coming back…" He repeated, as he continued to repair the last living piece of his mother that was left.

Harry did not care if making a deal with death couldn't be done. There still had to be a way. It did not matter to him that no one else had done it before, he was not like them.

He was different. Darkness purred in the back of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. -Malevolent Mind


	5. Willpower

**Harry Potter**

The caw of hungry crows awoke Harry from his slumber. Shivering from the cold, he opened sleepy eyes, the hooting of an owl now mixing with the nighttime melody. Rubbing dirty hands over the scattered weeds around his body, he continued to lay on his garden bed, longing to stay. The sun drowned in the horizon, its rays of light glimmering through the thicket of trees. Clouds faded and the pale moon peeked out from the darkening sky.

His eyebrows furrowed together, surprised that he had slept this long. Pushing up from the ground, he carefully started his long trek back through the forest. Starlight twinkled off the iced edges of the creek. He placed each footstep with practiced precision. His feet only dragging once they hit the cobblestone pathway. Loose gravel crunching underneath his feet, he walked towards his home.

Paused in front of the door, he lightly touched its surface. Grimacing, he shook his head and turned the door handle. A shiver went up his spine. Met with silent darkness; he looked around the foyer. Could his father still be angry? He stopped at the living room entrance, an ugly laugh escaping his lips. Dark eyes stared back. In the very spot his mother used to read to him sat Ms. Meredith. With a pinched mouth she flashed him a cold smile, a cup of hot tea resting in her thin hands.

"You finally decided to join us." She took a sip.

Harry crossed his arms. "Why are you here?" He looked around the living room. "Where's Dad?"

"Not here. Your father was called into work." She stood up. "Though I'm only still awake because your father requested that I let you return home at your own pace." She walked towards him. "However, I will say if you had stayed out much longer, I would have come to collect you." She wrinkled her nose down at him. "Next time, I will not wait. You clearly lack proper hygiene skills."

Harry gave her a cheeky grin and rubbed his dirt-covered hands across his face. The cold smile slipped into a blank expression. The room thickened in silence; he broke his stare and looked around the room.

"So…Where did Dad drop Rose off at?"

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"Rose." Harry said, as a lump began to form in his throat.

"She's upstairs in her room. It is her bedtime." The nanny rubbed her long fingers around the rim of the tea cup while staring towards the staircase.

Harry's heart began to thump against his chest. "By herself?"

"Yes."

"She let you leave?" He narrowed his eyes.

Ms. Meredith kneeled in front of him. "Mister Potter, I am aware that your father has babied her since the death of your mother but children must learn how to self sooth. Otherwise they will never be independent." She laid her hand on top of his shoulder

Harry's breath quickened as nausea turned his stomach.

"She still has nightmares…" He whispered. A spray of red splashed across his vision.

"My point exactly." Her warm breath washed across Harry's face, the strong scent of peppermint flooded his nose.

He jerked away from her grip and turned towards the stairs, his feet quickly pacing up the hardwood. Silence met him at the top. His pace slowed as he walked down the narrow hallway. Had he been overreacting? Could his sister really be fine and simply sleeping?

Standing in front of his sister's bedroom, only the panting of his own hurried breath was heard. Letting out a sigh of relief he rested his head softly against the wooden panel. It shuddered against him. Confusion rattled throughout his thoughts before everything became clear.

Rose is hitting the door.

Immediately he tried to turn the doorknob. The metal knob only slipped in his hand as he tried to force it to turn.

"Rose! Rosie!" Harry screamed.

He dropped to the ground and looked through the crack under the door. Small feet stood on the other side. He tried to reach for her but only fingers slipped through, brushing against the edge of her foot. The door stilled. A white cotton nightgown came into view before he saw her emerald eyes staring back. Her pale hands covered his. Fresh tears streamed down the corners of her eyes.

Harry's pulse elevated and his vision clouded. Pulling away from Rose's frantic hold, he stood. With balled fist he slammed them into the barrier that blocked his way. Desperately he tried to will the door to unlock. He needed to see his sister. He had to save her. To hold her.

Nothing happened. He clutched at his stomach, panic twisted with pain.

No… He had to protect her. He had to. Adrenaline coursed through him, he backed away from the door before he ran at it and slammed his shoulder against the wood. Pain shot across his shoulder. The door did not move. Footsteps sounded from behind. Ms. Meredith stood, the light from the lower level creeping passed her, outlining her body with an unearthly glow.

"You unlock her door. You do it now!" Harry's face flushed and burned with anger.

"Children do not yell at their elders." Ms. Meredith gestured towards his bedroom door next to Rose's. "It's clearly your bedtime."

Harry's teeth clenched together until the cords in his neck tightened.

"I'm not going to my bedroom until you open this door." Harry whispered icily.

She tisked her tongue at him and frowned.

"Hmm… Are you going to go to your bedroom or do I need to help you?"

Harry shook his head. How could anyone be so cruel? Harry knew then, that this woman was not going to help him nor listen. Still he took a deep breath in and tried again.

"She's scared. Please let me check on her." Harry's lip trembled.

Ssso weak…It whispered. Harry flinched at the sudden intrusion.

"Mister Potter, there is no reason for her to be scared. Rose is perfectly safe. She will learn in time." Ms. Meredith crossed the distance between them. "Now you must be off to bed." She lightly grabbed his wrist.

Harry immediately pulled against her hold, she tightened her fingers around his wrist with an iron grip.

"Stop acting like a fool and listen."

"No, I want my sister." Harry kicked at her feet.

Ms. Meredith sighed. "I didn't want to do this…" Her long pale hand slipped into the pocket of her outer robes, drawing a glass bottle. A familiar mark on the front.

"No… No! I don't need it. I'm calm." Harry slowly backed away.

"Then show me and go to your room."

His breath quickening, Harry pushed his back against his sister's door. "I'm not leaving Rose."

"Very well then. You leave me no choice. Petrificus Totalus."

White mist covered him, it spun together binding his limbs to his body as his legs snapped tightly together. Swaying, his weight shifted forward, the ground rushing towards his face. Inches from the ground he stopped, peppermint scented breath once more invading his space. "We can't have you hurting yourself." She whispered.

His boots scraped against the wooden tiles of the hallway as she dragged him into his room. Harry's eyes franticly darted around as she placed him on his bed. She frowned over him, slowly uncorking the bottle. His pulse now pounding in his throat. Harry could feel his own helplessness and rage twist together. He wanted her to cry just like his little sister, fear to glow in her eyes.

"It hurts me so to do this but we must have order. A household without order is no home at all." Strangely tender; she forced his lips open. The taste of apple and green tea coated his tongue as a fog slowly clouded his thoughts. Now released from the spell, he continued to lay. The soft fabric suddenly felt marvelous, tiredness soaked into his shoulders, his head now heavy. He took no notice as Ms. Meredith pulled his boots from his feet, nor did he flinch as she washed the dirt from his hands.

She stroked his face, wiping the dirt from his cheeks. "You remind me of him, always fighting. Maybe if I had been older… wiser….my son would still be here." Her eyes distant as if in some kind of dream.

"Sweet dreams," She whispered, pressing thin lips over his scar. Slowly, she rose, footsteps patting across the floor.

The lights went out, lock clicking shut. Harry laid. Drool slowly dripping from his mouth, he smiled oblivious to the world around him.

**James Potter**

Twigs snapped underneath dragon hide boots as James landed at the edge of the Longbottom's estate. At the forest's edge, Sirius at his side, a great stretch of land expanded before them. Evergreen trees were positioned sparingly around the rook they shielded as shrubbery lined the driveway, paving straight like a royal carpet. Center mass stood ancient stone, bricks fashioned into high pointed archways with spiraling towers and broad windows. The dark mark taunted him from across the lawn, tinting the glass panels green.

Pop, the sound of apparition cut through the ice-cold air causing Sirius to curse beside him.

With a wand already drawn, a woman approached with determined steps, her blue eyes already searching the landscape warily. "I'm coming with you."

"You don't have a partner." James scowled as she ignored him and turned to Sirius.

"I know this house as well as you. There are two main entrances. I will take the back. You and James can take the front."

"Do I simply not exist?" James did not have time for Vance's antics. He had to get to Frank and Alice. "I know you want to go, but it's too much of a risk. We have to concentrate on Frank, we can't keep an eye on you too." James rubbed his forehead as it began to throb.

She laughed. "Safe, when has this job ever been safe?" She turned towards the house. "I'll see you on the other side."

"Don't—" James tried to reach her, but without another word, Vance disappeared underneath an invisibility charm.

Sirius blocked his way. "Let her go. I did the same at Godric's Hollow."

Suddenly he understood why Vance had ignored him in favour of Sirius. She had been one of the Aurors to show up to his cottage that night. She had let Sirius inside…

"We need to hurry."

Wand tightly clasped, he tapped his forehead. The darkness dissipated as his pupils enlarged and his retinas improved, giving his eyes a second chance to register light. Hazel eyes flashed in the darkness; Sirius' blue gaze glowing in return. The spell was a Marauder creation, invented during his Auror training, their greatly improved vision was one of the main reasons he and Sirius had advanced so quickly through the ranks.

James cast the disillusionment charm, resisting the urge to shake his head as the sensation of an egg yolk ran down his scalp. His partner followed his lead and vanished. Now only a glint of gold shimmered in the darkness, revealing Sirius' charmed pocket watch. James' own watch warmed his breast pocket and reflected a similar gold glint, the clocks were a magical pair and could only be seen by the owners of the set.

Scanning the yard for hostile movements one last time, James made his way towards the side of the house. Weaving in and around the little cover the landscape offered, he finally pressed his back against the frosted stone manor. Hugging the wall, he dodged through the brush. Withering rose bushes crawled up the sides of the front door, snaking into the broken glass panels. With Sirius at his right, he rolled in front of the door, glass crunching underneath knee pads. Sirius reached slowly towards the entrance and turned the metal handle. It creaked open. Darkness poured from the doorway. James' eyes glowed as he scanned the hallway; spell marks burnt the walls and items littered the floors.

James walked along slowly, thankful for his night vision. Portraits of past Longbottom's muttered and sobbed as he followed a very faint flickering light in the distance. Entering the massive living room a soft dying flame spluttered from the grand fireplace. James stilled, his muscles drawing tense. His jaw clenched in anger as he stared at two fallen figures, their bodies twisted strangely together on the stone. Runes painted with blood littered the floor around them.

Sirius lunged, his disillusion charm now released.

"No!" James screamed. Darting forward, he reached out attempting to grasp Sirius' robes, fabric slipping through his fingers. Sirius' footsteps pounding inside his ears, he watched helplessly as the runes smeared.

Darkness fled as flames rose like pillars. Images swarmed in; faint images now crystal clear. Pale bodies bruised, battered and bloody, Alice and Frank laid wrapped together in each other's hold. Heat blasted across his skin as screams invaded his ears. Heart pounding he struggled to stand. Distant words echoed in his ears.

"Aguamenti!"

Water shifted and swam up the pillars, before jumping upwards and diving down, it ate the fire. Steam dispersed; droplets of rain and mist hung in the air as Vance danced around the floor, dispelling the runes as she neared her fallen partner.

Barely standing, James searched for Sirius, his gaze finally connecting, he pushed his legs forward. Kneeling over his best friend's body, he exhaled in relief. Sirius laid on the ground coughing, his robes clinging to his skin, wand no were to be seen.

Seeing his friend unharmed, he punched Sirius hard across the chest. "Seriously Padfoot, have you got shit for brains? Because this is the stupidest fucking thing you have ever done."

Sirius coughed an apology.

Shaking her head, Vance passed them as he pulled Sirius from the ground.

Vance knelt at Frank's side, tears streaming down her face as she tried to stabilize her injured partner with shaky wand movements. James had never seen her cry, but he could certainly relate. If anything happened to his partner… His heart tightened as he looked at Sirius.

Vance's sharp voice snapped him back. "Help me!"

Nodding, James crouched to the floor and attempted to get Alice's vitals so he could stabilize her for the healers. Gently he placed his fingers over Alice's blood soaked lips; thankfully soft breath warmed his skin. Next he pressed his fingers into the side of Alice's neck; he was surprised when he found a strong and steady heartbeat. All the blood had made him fear for the worst, but maybe there was hope...

"Alice, I'm here. If you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

Her breath hitched. Jolting forward Alice turned to her belly and began to heave. Vomit splashed to the floor. She started to wail.

"Alice, you're safe. I'm here." James' pulled her into a hug. Her limbs jerked like the bones of a dancing skeleton. Spit was pouring from her lips as her screams increased. His embrace loosening he brushed the sides of her face with his palms, while frantically searching her eyes for a spark of recognition. There was none. His wife's closest friend was convulsing in his arms, her pupil's irregular, screams escaping her mouth, the devastation of war crept soundlessly into his mind.

"She's gone." James whispered, visions of faded faces screaming mindlessly from the fourth floor of Saint Mungo's hospital flashed across his mind.

It would have been more humane to have just killed her.

Alice's lips trembled, as if trying to form a word, but James only needed to take one look into her unseeing eyes to know that she would never speak again. He backed away, subconsciously taking a hold of his wand.

Bright green flashed across his mind, the spell on the cusp of the lips. He could end it, her suffering. She would have preferred it. His wand rose slowly.

"What are you doing James? Help me!" Vance screamed, her arms wrapped around Alice she stared at him with wide eyes.

James jerked. Sirius pushed by him, immobilizing Alice with a quick spell. What had he almost done? He couldn't believe he had nearly used the killing curse and in front of Vance no less. If she hadn't said something, he would have been the person to kill his wife's best friend, Neville's mother. Suddenly a sickening thought entered his mind. His heart now pounding, he turned and fled. Rushing down the hallway, only one thought remained.

Where was Neville?

He scrambled through the hallway towards the stairs, hoping Neville might be hiding in his bedroom. "Neville," he yelled. "It's James Potter, Harry's dad. It's safe now." But only the pendulum of a grandfather clock sounded as it swung with a dull, heavy, repetitive clang. He continued to wander.

He was about to give up, when a soft pop echoed. A house elf stood trembling in front of him.

"Master Neville needs help. Penne will show you." She waved her overly large hand, beckoning him to follow her. As they neared the living room again, his stomach began to turn.

"The boy is not here." James tried but still she walked.

He stood frozen in the doorway as the house elf darted to a metal vent and began to pull at it.

"The vents…"

Moving forward, he watched as it clinkered to the floor. The smell of burning flesh invaded his nose, bringing back images of the battlefields. Oh god… Nausea crawled over his body, as he spotted Neville's face.

He bent down. Neville sat with eyes blank, his back pressed against the metal siding, face covered with red blistering burns.

"We need a healer. Get a healer now!" Screamed James.

Carefully, he pulled the small boy into his arms, James' chin tucked over Neville's head, he hugged him. "It's okay. I have you now." James rocked.

But Neville did not move, he did not speak. His eyes stared blankly forward.

James sobbed.

**Neville Longbottom**

Brown robed figures faded in and out of Neville's field of vision. Voices buzzed in his ears like flies. Compounded eyes all attempting to swallow him whole. Lightly landing over his skin, he swatted probing nailed extremities away as they tried to ask him of evil things.

Of sinful things he had done.

The previous hours eating through his heart, he fell into his memories.

Darkness slipped through Penne's shielding embrace as the fireplace began to brighten his parent's torture chamber. Molded and fashioned into human shape something more evil than even death slithered its way into his ears.

Mixed with his own parent's unfiltered animalistic screams, a shrill voice pierced his heart deeper than any knife ever could.

"Come out little mouse! Come out! Your parent's need your help."

Silence

"Little mouse, don't you want to help your filthy Mummy."

Silence

"Crucio,"

Screams

"Can you believe this Mummy? Your little mouse doesn't love you. He's going to let you die."

"You know, I don't blame him. Who would want a filthy blood traitor for a mother?"

Guilt…

Fear…..

And his own self damning silence…

That's all he could see, feel, hear, or taste.

Nothing but the horror of screams and his own silence.


	6. The Perfect Family

**James Potter**

Finally, having been released from work, James hurried home. Not even the snow had slowed him, but even in his haste he had arrived yet again too late to see his children, his work hours were long but he knew it was for the best. The people who had helped murder his wife were still free and he could not rest until they were all behind the walls of Azkaban.

James dragged his heavy boots across the wooden stairs. The sun had long set; his home was now silent. Shoulders sagged and his muscles burning with exhaustion, he paused in front of his daughter's room and frowned. Asleep again. His daughter had moved on; recovered. Yet his nights were still full of panicked awakenings. Had he really been pushing his own fears onto her? Was Ms. Meredith right? She sure seemed to think so. But where Rose seemed to be getting better, Harry had only gotten worse.

His son continued to have tantrums that no eight year old should have, he had even broken a family heirloom –thankfully only a boring vase—still Harry's lack of self-control worried James. The healers were even suggesting a mind specialist; children were not supposed to be given the calming draught this often, they said. James had never been so grateful that Ms. Meredith had shown up. He didn't think he had it in him to hold his son down one more time. Clenching his fists, he turned away.

In the entrance of his former place of refuge, now a place of phantasmagorias, he walked into the master bedroom. The lights flickered on. A lamp stand stretched over the room, it beamed down chasing the shadows away, spreading light, bringing into view tones of silver and gold, softened by hints of silk and wool. The room had kept its balance of feminine and masculine qualities, and even though his wife was gone, he still saw her everywhere. In the books that still laid next to their bed, in her shoes that still sat next to his. She was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. And he hated it… hated that he couldn't force himself to pack her things.

The objects in the room had only collected dust the past six weeks and yet now as he examined his wife's things… something seemed off, as if someone had moved things here and there. It was so subtle, he wondered if he might have gone mad. That is until he spotted a framed photo of Lily turned on its face, it hadn't been like that this morning. A sense of unease filled his stomach.

Carefully he picked up the frame, his eyes darting around the empty room in search of the unknown element, before walking towards the bed. Lily's side was still made. Unturned. Unchanged. He pressed his face into the wooly blanket, and he searched under the thick fabric for his wife's silk sheets. The ones she had loved so much.

In that moment, his every sensation was aware and on alert, yet he knew and was aware of nothing with certainty; how could Lily really be gone? Rolling over, he slowly stroked his wife's face as she smiled back from behind a wall of glass, unaware of her imminent death. Lily had not even reached her twenty-ninth birthday. The gift he had bought her still laid untouched in their closet, wrapped tightly in red paper. He reached out toward her pillow, letting the coolness of the fabric sink into his skin. Grief rolled across him in waves.

A creaking cut the silence. Jerking up, James quickly spotted a familiar black shadow attempting to pry the door open. A strand of pearls hung from its mouth.

"Mara!" James jumped from the bed and ran towards the family cat. James swept at it, the cat darted through the door and down the hallway, dropping the necklace in its escape. He quickly picked up the stolen beads. Intending to place the necklace in Lily's jewelry box, he walked towards the walk-in closet.

He knew that he was only supposed to place the pearls inside and shut the door but as he stood there, he could not stop himself from staring at Lily's side. His feet moved near her clothes without thought. He reached out and pulled her autumn coat into his face, the fabric brushing against his nose. He inhaled, expecting her scent, the smell of herbs, essential oils and a fragrance that was purely his wife but only dust and the smell of linen remained. It was gone. Faded into nothingness…

Hands shaking, his knuckles whitening under his tight grip, heat flushed through his body. Lily's face…voice… blurred more each day. Her scent couldn't fade too. He yanked the coat from the hanger and threw the garment to the floor. Rage fueling his movements, he pulled robe after robe from the hangers and with wide sweeping movements, threw them to the ground, each movement shaking the shelves. A red wrapped object trembled forward and crashed to the floor shattering in front of him. The heat of his anger quickly dissipated as fear twisted its way in. Now broken, the gift sat innocently in front of him. His legs started to tremble as his adrenaline rush left him, and he collapsed to his knees, bowing to the red wrapped gift box.

Broken, everything was broken.

He had just lost his parents. Why did he have to lose his wife too? Hot tears stung his face as a sense of emptiness sunk deep within.

Why? Why did she have to die? He didn't want to be alone.

**Bartemius Crouch Senior**

The morning sun rose in the east, and soft light streamed over the dining room, leaving the table with a glossy sheen. Walls stretched tall, framed photos proportioned to the size of the vaulted ceiling shone brightly as light reflected off their glassy panels. Except one. Isolated from the rest, a canvas sat, its hue dull with age, the picture of the perfect family smiled back.

Bartemius sipped his tea slowly, steam curling above his cup. He smiled across the table at his beautiful wife. Flour still dusted over her apron, she silently snacked on a muffin. Her wispy hair flowed over her shoulders reminding him of spun gold. Twenty-five years and he still had not tired of her perfect image; untainted by the evil of the world. Still blessedly ignorant of the finer darker details of his job, she smiled back at him; fair… fragile.

Maybe it was her appearance or maybe it was the innocence in her eyes… but he could never tell her and he liked it that way. It had worked perfectly the past two decades. He knew he was doing his wife a kindness by keeping the terrors of the world from her. And yet now he wished she were not so pure.

This couldn't completely be his fault, could it? She had never questioned him about the finer details of his days, even when his name appeared in the news. She had wanted this too, right?

He stared at her sky-blue eyes and frowned. There was no other choice. If he didn't tell her, she would soon find out from the news. Staring down at the table, deep in thought, his gaze connected with blue and white china.

"When did we get new plates?" Bartemius asked.

A brief flash of disappointment graced her face before she hid it with a downcast smile.

"Last year, our old ones were worn out," she replied politely, yet her voice still wavered.

Bartemius coughed uncomfortably, guilt stabbing at his belly. But still he smiled. Moments like these were the very reason he had married her. She knew her place well. He would have never accepted anything less. She was part of his public image and he knew she would have never done anything to destroy that. She understood that his ambitions were too great for any weakness. Sadly, he had not been able to pick his son.

Images of the night before were burned in his mind. Now thanks to his disgraceful child, all of their sacrifices were for nothing. He clenched his fist. At that moment, he knew that his son had not only destroyed himself but had destroyed their whole family. His image tarnished in a single day, his lifetime goal just barely out of reach; Minister of Magic now slipping through his fingers. His life's work now meant nothing!

His department had not stopped a moment to rest since the Longbottom attack. It had only taken a week before the Death Eaters had been caught. That fact was not so surprising seeing that Alastor Moody and Frank's old partner, Emmeline Vance, had led the search team. Moments before he had entered that cell, he had been so happy. This would've been the catch that led to his victory, his title. But when he entered that holding chamber there was no trophy but his own prison sentence. His own brown eyes looking back at him.

"Hello Daddy…" Those two words still rang in his ears. Pulling his courage on like a coat, he started. "They caught the Death Eaters responsible for the Longbottom attack."

His wife looked slightly surprised before she gave him a soft smile. She placed her hand over his and encouraged him to continue. There was a look of desperation in her eyes. She looked lonely. Suddenly, he tried to recall the last time they had really spoken to each other.

"That's a relief. You've worked so hard the last two weeks." She stroked the top of his hand. He frowned at her.

Something irked at the back of his mind. Could she have known? She had been closer to their son than him, and as his mother, it was her job to know these kind of things, wasn't it?

"Did you know?" he questioned.

Smooth fingers paused on his still hand, her eyes filled with confusion. "Did I know what?"

"They found Bellatrix, Rabastan, Rodolphus Lestrange and our son guilty of the crime."

Bright blue eyes widen, her whole body flinched as if someone had hit her. Looking away she pulled her hand away from his and brought it to her heart, covering it, as if it could shield her from the truth.

"I'm sorry. I must have heard you wrong," she murmured.

"Our son is a Death Eater. Did you know?"

She stood up, pushing from the table, moving away…. Away from the truth.

She really had no clue.

"No… no... There must be a mistake. They must have made a mistake." She shook her head.

"He confessed under Veritaserum. The Unforgivables were identified on his wand. There is no doubt of his guilt." Bartemius' rage quieted down, and instead worry started to fill his head. His wife's breathe quickened. Her face paled.

"They must have forced him! Oh love, there must be something that you can do." She stared at him with wide, hopeful eyes. He knew how much this would hurt her. It had taken three years for her to conceive their son and it had been another ten years before they had stopped trying for another. He knew how precious Barty Jr. was to her. He was their only child.

"He confessed that he did it of his own free will."

"Maybe they blackmailed him or threatened him. You know our son. He couldn't have done this!"

A day, even a few hours ago, he would have agreed with her. But since he'd seen his son in that holding cell, Bartemius had come to a sad conclusion: In reality, knew very little about their child.

"I can get you visitation rights but you should use them to say goodbye." He felt his own thoughts and feelings draw inside him. He had to be the strong one. His face became a stone wall.

"No... No… what do you mean goodbye? No! You are going to fix this! He is our son."

He had to make her understand. Standing up, he slowly walked towards her, reached out and pulled her close. A piece of himself broke as he whispered back to her, "I cannot take the side of a Death Eater..." His wife collapsed against him, her expression fading into something hollow, sobs filled the room.

He glared at their family portrait, his only child smirking back. How could his heir, the child that never wanted for a thing, betray and destroy him? But even in his own rage, a faint sentence floated across his mind.

It's not your presents I longed for… You were never there.

**Elphinstone Urquart**

Elphinstone tapped his foot inside the access lift as he clutched a thick manila file in his hands. Doors chiming he strode out and across level two of the Ministry of Magic. His long fingers ran through salt and peppered hair as he raised an eyebrow at the new sign in the waiting room.

"The Department of Magical Law Enforcement: Where justice dances with evil!" For over twenty years he had worked for the Ministry and in his opinion the signs only got tackier.

Elphinstone walked down a large hallway. Smiling, he nodded to the new clerk at the front desk before turning around a corner and passed through heavy oak doors. Inside the Auror Headquarters, the entrance spread wide into a large open area that was divided into small cubicles, one for each Auror – except for the Head and Senior Officer, their offices sat to the side of the room in enclosed glass walls.

Walking towards his office, a young man with bright red hair stumbled through the uncommonly used back entrance, his belongings almost scattering across the floor. Elphinstone's eyes narrowed, he had never seen the redhead before. However, spotting a large box in the redhead's hands with Misused Artifacts Office stamped across its front, he quickly lost interest.

Elphinstone wrinkled his nose at the thought of the cupboard-sized office that had been stuffed behind his department. The redhead paused in front of him and Elphinstone glanced at the name tag; Arthur Weasley, cleared his throat and smiled down at the newcomer.

"Hmm… Mr. Weasley, can I help you?"

Juggling his belongings, Arthur Weasley laughed nervously. "No sir. I just started work today and was heading to the clerk about some paperwork." Reading his nametag, Arthur took a moment before he spoke again.

"Are you really married to Professor McGonagall?"

Elphinstone's face grimaced—not this again. He was teased enough by his own office members. He could not handle some rookie asking for clarification as well. It was old news that he had fancied Minerva for a long time.

He had met her while she had briefly worked at the Ministry of Magic. Enthralled by her unquestionable wit, loyalty and bravery; he had immediately been smitten with her. But due to an unfortunate romantic fallout, it had taken over fifteen years to win her heart. First he had won her friendship and as time went by he slowly healed her heart. Their bond only grew deeper and stronger, until two years ago she finally accepted his marriage proposal. That warm summer day by the Great Lake, the world seemed to come alive. A hole in his heart filled at last.

Lost in his memory, he dismissed his frustration towards the boy.

"Yes, she's my wife. Were you a student of hers?"

Arthur Weasley scratched at the back of his head, a sheepish grin graced his face.

"Yes, but we still keep in touch. If you know what I mean." Arthur winked at him. "I haven't seen you at the meetings."

Elphinstone tapped his long fingers against his front leg before he took a deep breath in and slowly released it.

What kind of idiot had Dumbledore recruited now?

Yes, he knew of his wife's little underground group of vigilantes. It had taken a large amount of control and force to look the other way.

Justice should be left to the law, not to some group of hotheaded civilians.

But what his wife did in her spare time was not his business. Minerva had her loyalties and he had his. All that mattered to him was their loyalty to each other. So he bit his tongue and attempted to correct the man in front of him.

"Don't ever reference such things here again."

Arthur hunched over his box.

"I'm sorry. Sir… It's just that I'm new… you see?"

"Yes, you made that abundantly clear. Just try to think before you speak in the future."

"I'll see that I do that. Any chance you could not mention this to Dumbledore?"

"Seeing as I don't talk to Dumbledore, I don't think that's a problem."

Arthur's eyes widened for a moment before he nodded and quickly paced towards the front.

Elphinstone rolled his eyes and walked into his glass enclosed office, Senior Auror inscribed on a plaque. Sighing, he placed the file he had collected on his desk and sunk down into his generously padded leather chair. He loved his job but what he had found to be the worst part of getting old and becoming a senior employee was dealing with the young. He had no clue how his wife worked with children all year.

He padded the file on the desk, on the front of it written in loopy letters was the name Lucius Malfoy. Elphinstone grinned, this was his favorite part.

"Let the chase begin."

**Harry Potter**

At the side of a large table that was set flawlessly, napkins creased in perfect pyramid folds, the smell of rosemary chicken and butter rolls wavering through the air, Harry and Rose faced Ms. Meredith. Their hands were clutched together under the table cloth, their stomachs growling in hunger. Caution controlled Harry's movements. He knew that one wrong move meant he would go to bed hungry. A frown already forming on his childlike face, he watched as Rose reached for her half-filled cup of milk.

"Dear, I did not hear you ask for permission to have a sip. We don't want you to drink all of your milk before your plate is cleared."

Rose withdrew from the cup with doleful eyes, before her trembling hand picked up a spoon. Harry patted Rose's back, his hand brushing the tip of her short braided hair that was now bound together by Ms. Meredith meticulous fingers. Rose's eyes brightened a moment before she frowned as the nanny tisked her tongue in warning. Her small hands tightened around his. Rose was more than aware, that with the setting of the sun, their bedtime approached. And every night it was the same series of events. Rose never made it through dinner. In her panicked state she always made a mistake and was then sent to her room, locked in for the night. The first week Rose had fought, now she silently listened. Ms. Meredith had broken his little sister and he wanted her to pay for it.

"Ow!" Rose attempted to muffle her cry. Harry jerked back his hand, lost in his own rage, he had unknowingly tightened his grip around her small fingers until the pressure forced a scream from her lips. He had unintentionally hurt her again. The kitchen doorway suddenly seemed more appealing than his food. Certainly it was better than the images in front of him that only invoked rage and shame.

Mara, their family cat, gracefully pranced into the kitchen. The edge of his lips curved upwards as he began to form a plan. He could fix this; make it up to Rose. Reaching in his pocket, he fished a small pebble from his trousers that he had picked up earlier on his daily walk and dropped it to the ground, coughing loudly over the noise.

"Mr. Potter, cover your mouth."

"Yes Ms. Meredith," Harry said as he searched carefully with his foot for the pebble. Finally finding it, he positioned it right at the tip of his shoe. Smiling, he kicked it causing the pebble to slide across the floor silently and hit the cabinets across the kitchen with a loud thwack. Mara quickly chased after it. As he had predicted Ms. Meredith's head snapped towards the noise before quickly going after it.

Harry smiled triumphantly as the nanny left the table to chase the cat. He grabbed the butter roll from his plate smashing it down with his grip and quickly placed it into the inner pocket of his robe. He could sneak it under Rose's door later as he always finished his plate and was sent to the bathroom to wash up before bed. He could do it then.

"Mreow!"

Harry's eyes widened as the nanny kicked Mara hard. He looked away, guilt eating at his mind. He heard Rose stifle a sob. His victory was short-lived. Even though his sister had attempted to suppress the sobs, her shaking hands caused a spoonful of peas to scatter across her front and the nanny had seen it.

"Ladies eat their food, they do not wear it! Until you can learn to use your silverware properly, you may be excused." Rose tearfully looked at Mara before staring back at her plate longingly.

"Please, I'll do better." Her bottom lip quivered.

"I'm afraid not. You may wait in your room until your brother is done."

Tears falling silently, Rose slid off her chair, careful not to touch the table and turned around using her own body weight to push the chair away from the table so she could leave, before rushing for the stairs.

"Young lady, don't forget to push your chair in."

Rose's small frame froze and she slowly made her way back. Harry watched silently as his four year old sister struggled to move the heavy solid chair before retreating up the stairs.

"I'm not hungry," Harry said.

"I'm afraid you must clear your plate before you may be excused." Her knife cut into the rosemary chicken just a little too forcefully.

Harry's frustration built as his hands ran through his hair. Ms. Meredith's eyes narrowed at his action.

"It's not good hygiene to touch your face or hair while eating. Please go wash your hands." Ms. Meredith openly glared at him for yet again interrupting her dinner.

Harry observed her own hands that were chapped from her own excessive washing. He stood up with one hand still purposely bracing the table in front of him, waiting for the next rule to spew from her mouth.

"Only uncivilized people use the table to stand. You must learn to stand with only your own strength."

Harry's emerald eyes narrowed. A snarl marked his face as he used his other hand that was not supporting him to grab his plate and dropped it on the floor in front of him. Chicken and peas spilt across the floor as metal utensils clanged against the white ceramic. Ms. Meredith's sharp featured face contorted into a look of barely controlled fury. Harry smiled in return. His instincts whispered softly of danger and pain but he had never been one to listen to reason.

"Oops, looks like I must go to my room. Please excuse me." Harry started to turn around.

She stood up and made her way around the table towards him. His heart began to pound as she drew closer but he stood his ground not allowing her to see his fear. She would not break him. Chapped hands clamped down on his shoulders.

"Apologize and clean up your mess." Her voice was as cold as steel.

Her nails began to dig into his skin. Soft whispers of warning turned dark. Red eyes gleamed out of the blackness. There isss alwayss the knife… it said. Harry unwillingly found himself glancing at the knife before clearing his head. Shut up! he responded. He was brought out of his internal battle as Ms. Meredith shook his shoulder trying to prompt a response from him. He already knew his answer.

"No!" Harry stared right into her eyes, challenging her to try and make him.

"Very well, I think some time alone to think about what you did, will help you remember your manners tomorrow." Her hands moved firmly down his shoulder to the tops of his arms and began to pull him towards the stairs. She tugged him sharply; he gasped. Not from pain, but because he felt the roll dislodge and drop to the ground.

Ms. Meredith stilled, her expression blank.

"What is that?"

"A roll."

"In your robes?"

"For later."

"Oh, yes, of course. Let me save it for you. I'm sure it will be a lovely breakfast."

"I think porridge sounds better," Harry snapped.

"Get in your room, or your sister will only get a roll for breakfast as well."

Harry froze. She had not just threatened his little sister?

"I will tell Dad." Harry eyed her coldly.

But even as he spoke those words he knew they meant nothing. He had tried to tell his father about Ms. Meredith's less than nurturing nature but every time his father was home, she stalked over them. Blocking them, redirecting them, making sure they said nothing. Her constant supervision had caused him to get creative. He had even broke an old vase that he knew was worth a lot of money and framed the nanny, thinking his father would fire her. He had been wrong. When he had confronted his father, Ms. Meredith still towering over him, she quickly twisted his own words. At the end his father had believed her over him and had grounded him for an entire week! No, his father was not going to help and Ms. Meredith knew this.

The nanny chuckled over him.

"Mr. Potter, do you know why your father hired me?" Ms. Meredith's broad smile caused his stomach to turn uneasily. She took his silence as a sign to continue. "He told me what you did to Rose's dog…"

Harry shifted slightly but the nanny continued.

"Your father thinks you're a monster and monstrous children must be disciplined. That's the only way they get better. He does not care about my methods as long as I fix you. That's what your father hired me for. So please do tell him that I'm doing my job." A gleam of deviltry glazed her eyes.

"You're lying," he whispered but his heart still began to pound. Harry rubbed his forehead as his very own monster began to cackle madly in his mind. Ms. Meredith knelt down and pulled his hand from his face and began to wipe his already clean face with a napkin.

"You know it's true... This is your life now. It's best you accept it. I'm only here to help you." She pushed him towards the stairs.

Doubt clouded his mind. But he wasn't the monster…

He numbly let her lead him to his room.

"It would be best to remember your manners tomorrow." She shut the door behind him and spelled it shut.

Silence surrounded him except for his own heavy breathing. He felt his hands start to run through his hair in a failed attempt to calm himself, only moments later he started to pull at it lightly. Hoping the pain could ground him. The urge to pound on the door caused him to back further away from it until his back hit the bed. No one would hear him anyways.

Ssuch an sstupid child…

No, he shook his head as if that could somehow dismiss the voice. He could survive the silence, live happily submersed in it, if it were not for the monster in his head.

"Go away, just leave me alone!"

I would have grabbed the knife…

"Shut up, just shut up. I'm not a monster. I'm not," Harry whispered feverishly.

I could help you! It would be ssooo eassy to hang her from the rafterss. We both know sshe deservess to ssuffer!

Images of grey walls blurred his vision as he braced himself against the bed. His bedroom tilted and faded away as a grim and gloomy room filled his mind. The grey coloured walls were cracked and the paint was peeling from rotten wood. A dark silhouette of a child stood still, looking up into the darkness. The obscure scene flashed into light as the creaking of a door opened, letting in the sun's rays. Above the strange smiling child, a beautiful white rabbit hung stiffly from a rope, its fragile neck now broken, red eyes bulged. Harry turned away in disgust, only to see a lump of a boy with a wide-eyed face in the doorway. The strange child from before walked past him, through him… as if he were only a ghost.

"I have been waiting for you," it whispered. "You touched my possessions. So it's only fair that I get to touch yours too." Chilling laughter echoed around him as the voice disappeared into the darkness of his mind but the monster continued on.

That is how you deal with people who hurt your thingss.

Surprised, Harry only stood in silence; his room once more beneath his feet. The monster, his weakness, was it human? Did it once have people it loved as well?

"Are you a child? Like me?"

I am you. Your body is my body, your ssoul is my ssoul.

The once weak and serpent-like voice of the monster had changed into something stronger, more human and it coated his mind like poison.

I am yours... Every monster has a Dark Passenger.

It laughed but it was not the chilling laughter like before, no this laughter was thick, fragmented and it burned through his mind.

"No…no. I'm not…. You're not," Harry muttered. He knew no amount of denial would change anything and he had somehow always felt like the dark passenger was a part of him, his rage and yet… "I don't want you. I don't need you! "

It only whispered back, You will…


	7. A winter wonderland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not have reached this point without the help of Asylum94, ValwithV, and LucyTheBucktoothTiger. Thank you all so much! Rated M for the following: Murder, torture, blood, gore, child abuse, and intense violence. *Elphinstone Urquart is not an OC, he's actually a canon character.

Chapter Seven: A winter wonderland

Peter's beady black eyes traced Elphinstone's every step as the old man strolled around the Great Lake's edge, his wife, Minerva McGonagall close at his side. Their figures blurred in the distance. Fear pounded in his chest as he slid slowly across the snow. He paused once more as Elphinstone and Minerva stopped under a large oak tree. Peter did not dare move closer, he would not survive an attack from them both.

If only he could go back in time. Peter's whiskers twitched. Nothing was going as planned. The memory of the day before still burned in the back of his mind.

"Haven't I earned your protection, your trust?"

"Not quite yet," Lucius said.

In that moment thoughts of simply fleeing had crossed Peter's mind but his own fear captured him. If he ran from Lucius, not only would the Aurors and the Order be chasing him, the Death Eaters would join the hunt.

"I've done everything you've asked of me."

"I just have one more request. That's it."

"Request..."

"Yes. Kill Elphinstone Urquart."

Peter blinked. He surely had misheard.

"But he's the senior Auror."

"I'm well aware."

Lucius had never meant to keep his promise and now was attempting to send Peter to his death.

But the pureblood had underestimated him, just like everyone else. He knew Elphinstone; his old boss. He had watched the man from behind the walls of his cubicle for years. Peter had filed hundreds of detailed reports, all showing Elphinstone's work patterns, his fighting style but most importantly, the old man's habits and his only weakness.

She stood next to him, squeezing his hand. It was Saturday, the only day he took off. The man was soft when it came to his wife.

Shivering in the cold, he waited until Minerva returned to her students and Elphinstone headed to their small cottage in Hogsmeade.

At the edge of the path leading back to town, Peter lurked. Elphinstone froze sensing that something was not right. It only took Elphinstone seconds to spot Peter's animagus form darting through the snow and fired a spell. Prepared, Peter dashed through the snow towards a familiar sight, the Whomping Willow. Unlike Elphinstone, Peter was much younger. He knew what the tree was and what lied beneath its branches. Invisible to the Whomping Willow, Peter scuttled towards the small opening at its roots. At the hidden entrance he reversed his form.

Elphinstone rolled away from near death having blindly chased him through a parade of pounding limbs and quickly dodged the unexpected attack. With shaking hands, Peter felt his breath go out as he raised his wand. The red of his stupefy washed over Elphinstone's widened eyes and hit him in the head. He fell. Wooden limbs followed. The crunch of the man's skull slushed and invaded Peter's ears as a spray of blood and brain spit across his face. The Auror had not expected an attack, Peter knew the man had thought him a coward.

He dry heaved as he leaned heavily against the wooden passage. A place that had once represented deep friendship was now twisted and distorted with death.

With blood still splattered across his face, he fled through the shrieking shack and to the edge Hogsmeade before returning to the edge of the Malfoy's estate. He paced as he waited.

"Why are you here? I told you what I wanted," Lucius snapped.

"I did it."

"Did what?"

"What you asked me to do."

"You actually killed Elphinstone?" Lucius sneered.

"Yes, the Whomping Willow crushed his skull in."

For the first time, Lucius seemed to notice the blood splattered across Peter's face.

Peter threw Elphinstone's Auror pocket watch on the ground, now visible in the wake of its master's death.

"Well, what a pleasant surprise." Lucius stared intently at it. "But sadly this still leaves loose strings and my Ministry court date is close."

Peter could not hold his tongue any longer. "No, you said this would be the last thing."

"I'm well aware of what I said. I don't need you anymore."

Peter smiled, his shoulders sagging. "Finally, thank you so much."

"Ah yes, you wanted the deed to your mother's old house. As we agreed..." Lucius pulled his wand from his pocket. "You will sleep well there tonight." With eyes cold, dead, and flat he whispered. "Avada Kedavra."

Stumbling backwards, Peter fell as the green glow washed over his nose.

Escape, retreat… these things had always been instinctual…automatic. There was no deep thought process as he Apparated, only the rush of flight or fight.

Falling, Peter's landed on the cement of a back alley. His hands still raised above his face as if they could have blocked the killing curse, shaking at the wake of death's close icy caress…

He had been betrayed. Almost killed.

With snot and tears running down his face, he sobbed. He had nothing. No place to turn. No friends or family. Nothing but the desire to survive.

...

Neville rocked the chair back and forth. Outside his window the sun slowly set. The landscape was peaceful, but he only felt… numb… Empty like the off-white walls and cold sterile floors of the hospital room he had so recently left. All he knew for certain was that his head felt like it was wrapped in cotton and it caused his senses to dull and time to jump sporadically around him. The ever changing faces and endless questions hummed at the back of his mind. Still, he didn't want to talk about it. Why didn't they understand?

Adrenaline spiked. Neville's head jerked quickly around, his eyes darting back and forth looking for something just out of reach, a shaded memory haunting the edge of his vision. He knew that this was his room and yet it appeared distorted, and artificial.

His panic heightening, he leaned forward focusing on his breath. He rode through his anxiety before it slowly simmered away. He was safe. They were caught, and yet he could not believe it. They had said the war was over too. The Death Eaters did not follow the expectations of others.  
Click. Click.. Click…

Heels echoed, followed by a knock on the door. Phantom pains of nails caused shivers up his spine.

His grandmother, a tall bony woman, marched into the room and swiftly inspected him. Neville pushed his back firmly against the chair in an attempt to distance himself, his eyes narrowing on the dead vulture decorating her hat. His Gran scared him and her gossipy friend, Griselda Marchbanks, who smiled brightly beside her, only added to his distress.

"Why are you not in your dress robes? The party is only hours away."

"I don't want to go."

"Now, don't be silly."

Neville pressed the palms of his hands into his ears, he grimaced in pain. He just wanted her to leave, so he could be alone. "A calming draught, can I have one?"

"You are a Longbottom, you don't need a potion. You only need a bit of time to process and heal. A calming draught would only delay the shock."

Neville felt his Grandmother attempt to stroke his face. He moved away.

"If I need time, than why are you making me go to this party?"

"Because it's our Christmas party. What would people think if you were absent?"

"Please, Gran, don't make me go downstairs," Neville whispered.

She stared at him for a moment before grasping a family locket that held a photo of his father.

"Get dressed and I'll let you have that house-elf, the one you are so fond of, accompany you. But for goodness sake please act normal, you're not a two year old child that still needs a wetnurse. Your relationship with that creature is indecent. "

The thought of acting coldly towards Penne caused his stomach to turn.

His Gran turned back to her friend. "Neville clearly needs more time to get ready. Would you care to join me for some tea before the guests arrive?"

"But of course, Augusta. Do you still have the tea we drank last time? The sweet one…"

The door clicked shut.

Neville whispered, "Penne?"

A soft pop echoed through his chambers.

"Master Neville?"

He smiled.  
...

Harry had finally spotted it, the color red. He ran. His cheeks were flushed and his breathing heavy as his black boots slid across the snow. He turned sharply and dashed towards his sister, auburn hair a flowing beacon against a blanket of white. Rose was only a hands reach away when she slipped with a loud squeal. Harry laughed and crashed into her. Rose's eyes widen with surprise as they fell, his arms wrapped tightly around her, cushioning her from the fall.

"Tag, you're it!"

Rose wiggled against him. "You always win!"

"Well, if you weren't such a slowpoke..."

Rose frowned. "I'm just tired and hungry," she bit out.

Harry's joy evaporated, and a dull ache laid heavy against his chest. This was the nanny's fault. Scrambling to stand, he avoided her eyes and looked into the distance at the frozen forest before glancing back at his home. An idea formed. A certain plant grew deep within the depths of his mother's forest that could rid him of her.

He sighed between clenched teeth as he looked back at Rose, who followed his every move.

"I don't want to be It, again." Rose whined.

Ignoring Rose's pouting Harry gripped her wrist. He couldn't leave her… but he had to go soon. The snow would only deepen and the plant would be even harder to find.

"Follow me."

He tugged Rose towards the forest but she quickly struggled against his grip.

"Ms. Meredith told us not to enter the forest."

Harry halted; Rose crashed against his side.

"Do you always do as she tells you to?"

Rose pressed her lips together.

Harry grinded his teeth. "You're such a baby."

"Am not."

"Then prove it," Harry snapped.

Rose yanked her hands back and glared at him before she stomped into the forest. Harry only smirked from behind her.

"Foolish, stupid, you know better." It whispered through his mind.

"I don't have a choice."

"Yes, you do."

Harry flinched. He couldn't. He wouldn't do that to his mother.

Sunlight dimmed under the evergreen trees and hibernating hardwoods. Snowcapped, the trunks sagged under the weight. Darkness thickened as his passenger continued to whisper. Cautious, Harry eyed the scenery above their heads. Branches hung weakly as their limbs stretched and struggled against the tomblike ice. The coniferous brush had only two options; to bend or to break. He would never be so weak.

At the edge of the creek Harry cautiously placed his boot against the frozen water. The scent of pine resin and a blast of cold caused shivers to trail down his back. The absence of colour, the brightness of white…wintry death…he hated it. His sister saw a winter wonderland, it was nothing but a wasteland.

"I'll cross first to make sure it's safe. Wait here," Harry said.

"But—"

"Rose, just shut up and wait."

He carefully shuffled across with arms parallel to the ground; it held. A rush of warm air escaped his lips. He had done it! His boots now on solid ground, he started to turn to usher Rose across, but before his gaze connected with hers, a crack of ice broke the stillness causing the hair on the back of his neck to rise. His breathing became labored as realization settled into the pit of his stomach. Harry could only watch as her frame, shrunken from malnourishment and distance, sprawled across the ice. Little gloves and knees latched onto fractured sheets. Rose lost strength as Harry's world slowed. He was breaking apart as water seeped through her clothes.

The cold faded and yet sound boomed against his ears. Low, dull and quick like the ticking of his father's pocket watch; invisible and enclosed behind the surface of his breast pocket. It was a sound Harry knew all too well; the beating of his own heart. It drew out his shadowed side and fed the beast within him, drowning his fear as it twisted and mutated into fury.

She should have known, should have listened!

His heart pulsed, the ticking of time now all too notable, it stimulated him and pushed him onwards. Never would death steal another loved one from him.

His feet pounded across crumbling ice as lungs tightened and constricted, he struggled to swallow the frigid air as he tackled into her, pulling her protectively into his arms once more. A deafening crack was the last thing he heard before they plunged into darkness. Thoughts of frigid rapids coursed through his mind. He gasped involuntarily, but instead of ice water, fresh air filled his lungs as a distinct pop cracked through the air.

Something was wrong. He could no longer feel his sister's warm embrace, nor the cold water he had expected. Instead, there was a curious absence of temperature, of hot and cold, disorientating him. He was suddenly weightless, his body turned to putty, twisting as if between a giant's hands. The sensation unsettled him, blinded him and in a rush of colour and cold his shoulder slammed into the solid ground. The fall knocked the breath from him. Struggling, Harry tried to push himself up but only succeeded in rolling over. The snow slushed across his back and into his hair.

"Rosie, Rosie!" The brightness of white and the renewed cold disabled him. Blindly, he tried to grasp for her.

Nothing. Silence.

His body began to shake as he tried to suppress his terror.

Then a spluttering cough and movement sounded.

"Harry? What happened? What's going on?"

The warmth of her familiar face pressed against his cheek.

Where was the ice? Why were they not freezing to death? The sensation of nothingness had felt vaguely familiar. Had… had he Apparated?

"I think our magic saved us."

"Really?" Rose was now suddenly excited in spite of her close call with death. But it was short-lived and her shoulders hunched. "Hey, why did we even come here?"

He couldn't tell her why. It could put both of them in danger. No, this was his responsibility alone.

"I thought you were hungry. Mum planted Brussel Sprouts further in the forest." Harry tried to keep a straight face. "It doesn't matter now. I can't cross the ice."

"Brussel Sprouts… did we seriously almost drown over a vegetable. Isn't there carrots or winter berries somewhere?"

He couldn't help but smile. In that moment Rose reminded him so much of their mum.

"Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking… Unfortunately, the carrots and berries are also across the ice."

"Oh..." Rose frowned.

"There iss another place you could find it…" It whispered.

"I'm not a thief."

"You can't ssteal from the dead."

"My Mum's not dead!"

"Oh yess, of coursse," It mocked.

"Hey, Harry." Rose cocked her head to the side with worry.

He must have dazed out.

"I'm sorry. What did you say?"

"It's getting late. She'll be coming to look for us soon. The party remember?"

Oh yes, the party. Neville…

"You're right. Let's go."

They rushed back through the forest but were still late. Harry peeked through the trees. Ms. Meredith was already on the prowl. He could hear her call, a tint of worry in her voice.

In the hopes of creating as much distance between them and the forest as possible, Harry quietly directed Rose through the garden. Maybe he could say they had run off to the muggle village? But the winter gave little to hide behind and she quickly spotted them.

"Where were you both? I was so worried."

Harry touched the base of his neck. She seriously looked concerned.

"Your father will be here any minute and you're covered in filth!"

Harry frowned. Of course…

Ms. Meredith wasted no time grabbing his sister and quickly pulled her towards the cottage. The nanny had told him that it was inappropriate to hold children once they could walk but it seemed dragging a child was completely fine. Harry's frown was now permanent as he walked. The nanny knew that she only had to force Rose to follow to get them both inside and had used it against him.

Once they entered the foyer Ms. Meredith had sent him upstairs to wash his face and change. Now clothed in dress robes, he returned downstairs. His sister sat silently on the sofa, her bright green eyes downcast in fear as Ms. Meredith stood tall over her, roughly brushing at Rose's wild hair. Their mum would have protected her.

Thoughts of his mother's office crossed his mind. He shook his head. He would not steal from his own mum. He wasn't even allowed in there without her and the door was certainly locked.

Ms. Meredith paused the brush and observed Rose's hair before turning and focusing her gaze on him.

"You will need a coat."

Ms. Meredith summoned it from the hall closet and headed towards him. With rough hands, Ms. Meredith pulled the large winter coat around him.

Footsteps approached. His father stood at the doorway. A frown was set on his freshly shaved face. Unaware, Ms. Meredith continued to jerk Harry's whole body as she fastened each new button.

Ms. Meredith's hands stilled and her face blanked as she finally saw his father. Harry grinned. Sadly, it was only a flash of weakness. Ms. Meredith's face quickly warped into a false look of frustrated concern.

"Harry, if you cannot be still, I cannot button your coat!"

His heart raced with rage as the roaring of his heartbeat drummed against his ears. His dark passenger stirred again.

"No matter how hard a worm triess to sslither like an ssnake, it doesn't change the fact that it's still a worm."

Harry did not argue.

"Dad, I'm so happy your home!"

"Me too, son." His father walked towards them, between them. With cold eyes James said, "I've got this." His father gently threaded the last button.

"Are we really going to Neville's house, just me, you and Rose?"

"Yep, where is she?"

Harry pointed to Rose who had moved to the entrance doorway obediently.  
"Sweetie, you feeling okay?"

Rose's lips parted—

"Oh Mr. Potter! She must have caught a cold. Harry had her running around in the forest. I forbid them from entering but that boy never listens."

Surprised, Harry stepped backwards.

"Harry, is that true?"

With held breath, Harry looked back and forth between his father and the nanny. He understood a trap when he saw one.

The muscles in his neck twinged. He found himself looking towards his mother's study once more. Letting out a rush of breath, frustration building to the point of nausea, he turned to his father. "Yes. I'm sorry. Rose said she was hungry and I knew there were brussel sprouts in the forest."

"Brussel sprouts? Really, Harry…"

Damn it, why had he told such a stupid lie to begin with?

"I—"

Yet again he was cut off as Ms. Meredith gently patted his father's back.

"Mr. Potter, you will miss your Portkey if you keep chatting." She turned sharply towards Harry. "Plenty of food at the party, don't you think so, Harry?"

Harry glared at her; she smiled pleasantly back.

"Harry, don't forget your manners while you're out."

Harry could not stop his body from tensing at her words, his hand tightened around his father's coat.

"Ms. Meredith, I think you and I need to chat when I return." James pulled Rose close.

"But of course, Mr. Potter. I'll prepare some tea." Her face lacked an ounce of worry.

"Mistletoe," James said. The Portkey activated.

Harry felt his navel tug and watched the world spin around. He would have crashed if not for his father's firm grip. Visions of the ice flooded back. Rose whimpered next to him. He quickly caressed her hair.

"Shhhh," he softly said. Rose had to stay silent for more than one reason, his father would kill him if he knew that they had almost drowned.

Standing in the lobby of the Longbottom's Estate, Harry felt a thrill of excitement flutter in his stomach as he tugged at his father's hand.

"What is it?"

"I want a different nanny, Ms. Meredith's nothing but a worm."

"I'm sorry… what… A worm?"

"She makes Rose cry."

"What do you mean, she makes her cry?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply but before he could utter another word his godfather appeared from the hallway.

"Prongs, Moony's here!"

James' face fell.

Harry glanced between them, looking for answers. He had wondered about Moony before, but his father had always avoided the subject. Much like when Harry mentioned his mother. He had honestly suspected that he had died.

His father and Sirius whispered back and forth as Harry silently fumed beside them, only able to make out bits and pieces.

"He finished the treaty….

I betrayed his trust….

…will never forgive us…."

They entered the ballroom. "Dad—"

"Harry, can you go find Neville? I'm sure he would like to see you," James said. "I need to go talk to Remus, it's important."

How was that more important? The Nanny's words echoed throughout his mind. "He knows."

"But—"

"Harry, we'll talk about this later. Okay?"

Teeth clenched, he watched his father walk away with Rose still in hand.

He paused and examined the marble floors of the ballroom; slabs of stones connected together in a series of geometric patterns. He searched through the crowd of faces as if looking for a piece of a puzzle. There were far more people here than the year before. Why?

Harry frowned as he walked, the answer quickly revealing itself. Hushed whispers crawled across his back. Adults stealing glances at him, whispers of Voldemort… of his mother… the savior of the wizardry world. Not only that but whispers of the late hostesses; they were gossiping about his godmother, Alice Longbottom.

Harry sneered. People are disgusting, he thought. He finally spotted the missing piece. At a table near a stairwell Neville stood behind two identical red-headed children.

As he came closer their words became clear.

"What's that?" said one of the twins, pointing at Neville's now hairless eyebrow.

"Blimey," said the other. "Did the Death Eaters, ya know..."

"I think so George," said the first twin. "Which one did it?"

Neville crossed his arms in front of him, as if creating a barrier.

"You need to leave," Harry said.

The pair turned simultaneously.

"Harry Potter," chorused the twins.

"George. Fred…" Harry looked between them. "Why don't you go throw a snow ball at an adult and leave Neville alone?"

"Why must you be such a spoil sport?"

"Yeah, you used to be so much fun."

"Watching your mum be tortured in front of you, can do that. Ask your mum, sure she could tell you all about her brothers."

The twins had the decency to blush.

"Harry, we were only curious."

"Yeah, can't blame a bloke for being curious."

"Do it somewhere else," Harry said.

"Alright, sorry about this…"

"…Neville."

A held breath escaped Harry's lips as he watched them walk towards the lobby, clearly taking his advice to heart.

"You know, you didn't have to do that," Neville said.

"Are you okay?" Harry replied.

Silence.

"Neville?"

"No, not really. People keep staring at me like some zoo animal and…maybe I am. I don't feel the same."

"The only animals here are those gawking adults," Harry said. "And Neville, don't you think it would be strange if you still felt the same after… that."

Neville side glanced at him. "Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just… How do you…Your mother… you saw her tortured too." He bit his lip. "How do you not go crazy?"

How did he not go crazy? Harry's dark passenger seemed to find this thought funny. Harry closed his eyes. Flashes of green, an invisible monster soaring through the air, its claws cutting into his flesh... He had experienced death. Met it, and yet he was not in the afterworld.

"It's not over. Death, is escapable."

"Don't joke with me, Harry!"

"I escaped it… and so did you! We are wizards. What use is magic, if we can't protect the ones we love?"

"But…I didn't." Neville braced himself against the table. His fingers whitened under the pressure of his grip.

A house-elf burst from beneath the tablecloth. "Master Neville, you must breathe!"

The paleness of Neville's face, the blueness of his lips. Harry knew this, had experienced this and yet to be on the other side was startling.

They were surrounded by wandering eyes and whispering lips; and yet no one dared to move forward, except the strange house-elf at Neville's side.

Sickened, Harry snarled at the adults before he pushed Neville towards the staircase.

"No, no, Gran said—"

Harry pinched the boy hard. "You think your Gran wants you collapsing on the floor? Don't give these people the pleasure of seeing you cry."

Neville nodded.

Harry guided Neville back to his room. Neville tiredly slid onto his bed. His pale skin blotched with stress blended with the light patch-work spread. Harry stood in the doorway, eyes narrowing on the house-elf as it rubbed his friend's shoulder. Interesting.

"If you need to cry, I can guard the hall."

"You don't understand! All I do is cry… I don't have any magic," Neville said. "I can't protect anyone. Not even myself."

"What are you babbling about?"

Neville sobbed. "I just watched. Hid and watched them bleed... Watched them scream."

Harry's muscles tensed. Alice and Frank were gone and all Neville could think about was this! "This isn't about you! You're not dead… Or laying in some hospital bed. Don't make this about you. Because it's not!" Harry slammed his fist across the door. "All you can do is go forward and fix it."

"Fix it?" Neville scrambled up. "How the hell am I supposed to fix this?"

"I'm not saying it's going to be easy—"

"You don't get it. You don't understand. They're gone!"

"Aren't your parents worth trying for? Bones, organs, skin can be regrown." Harry watched Neville brush his fingers across a phantom scar. "Why not the mind… why not memories?" Harry looked at his hands. "You have to try, otherwise… you lose everything! I refuse to give up." Harry looked up at Neville. "Promise me. Promise me on the magic that I know you have, that you will never give up."

"Harry, I c—"

"Yes… you can."

"I'm not sure I can do it. I just mess everything up but..." Neville said. "I want to try! Harry, promise me you wouldn't let me give up."

Neville kneeled before him and raised his right hand forward. Harry frowned.

"Do not inssult the boy. Kneel and grassp his hand with your own," It whispered. Harry's lips pressed together.

On his knees, Harry clutched Neville's hand, the right words came to him easily.

"Will you, Neville, promise to never stop trying to restore your parent's minds?"

"Yes and will you, Harry, promise to never stop trying to resurrect your mother?" Neville looked away, his cheeks reddening. "And promise to do this together."

Harry nodded. "Together… we will restore your parents and defeat death!"

His dark passenger silently observed, a jolt of curiosity and desire pulsing within it.  
...

Under chandelier lights, James silently watched as Remus enchanted two flowerpots of Poinsettia to dance and twirl across the tabletop. His daughter giggled at his side as Ginny, the Weasley's youngest child, attempted to dance beside it. Remus had always had a gentler kind of mischief.

James stood at the edge of the ballroom and sipped from a glass of Firewhisky as he watched Ginny and Rose, who were now chasing the fairy orbs that circled the room. The alcohol did nothing to calm his nerves.

"It's been a while." Remus settled next to him.

"Yeah, it's been too long."

"How have you been?"

"Fine," James said.

"You look tired."

"Well, work is understaffed and we just lost our Head Auror. So, sorry if I don't look spritely."

"Elphinstone's dead?" Remus' eyes widened.

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"The Whomping Willow crushed his skull in." James averted his eyes with a sigh.

"Peter…"

"Yes, Peter," James snapped. "Only hours before his death, Elphinstone told Minerva that he suspected that Peter was taking orders from a higher ranking Death Eater."

"Who?"

"It's only speculation, but Elphinstone was assigned to Malfoy's case."

"Malfoy… no surprise." Remus rubbed his hand over his heavily bagged eyes. "So many lives lost. When will this be over?"

"As long as there is even one Death Eater running free, it will never end."

"Peter, a Death Eater… I still can't believe it." Remus paused and pulled his shabby overcoat tightly around him. "You thought I was the spy, didn't you?"

James' swallowed heavily before looking away in silence.

"Why didn't you tell me that you changed it to Peter?" Remus asked again.

"Moony, the war made my head fussy. I have children…" James paused. "I had a wife. I just wanted to make sure they were safe."

Moony stared at him, judgment ringing clearly in his amber eyes.

"The day Lily was murdered…was the same day that I secured a treaty with the northern werewolves," Remus whispered.

James' stiffened.

"It wasn't my fault!" James felt his breath quicken. No one had known about Peter. It wasn't his fault that Lily had died. It wasn't. It was the Death Eaters! They had murdered his wife. Destroyed his happy family.

"I never said it was your fault. You came up with that all on your own," Remus said, his tone clearly controlled.

"Voldemort murdered my wife and don't you dare say differently."

"Damn it, James. It's not always about you. Why can't you see what I'm trying to say?" Remus slanted his body away but James grabbed his shoulder.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You didn't trust me. You, one of the three people in the whole world, who I thought didn't judge me for my condition." Remus' voice gradually lowered into a measured whisper.

"Moony…"

"Don't call me that. Don't you dare." Remus pulled his hand from his shoulder, tears clearly glistening in the corner of his eyes. "You don't have that right anymore."

...

Wiping his boots off on the welcome mat, snow slushed between its grooves. James paused at the entrance to the living room. He stood in silence and simply stared. The scent of a freshly cut pine tree flowed through the air, red ribbon and globes of gold hung from a tree… a Christmas tree. Rose and Harry ran across the room towards it. Smiles lighting their faces.

"Do you like it?" Ms. Meredith's voice startled him.

"I cannot believe I forgot the Christmas tree," James whispered. The back of his mind yelling, lies. He had seen the décor, savory food and the smiling families. Yet, he had continued to delay the family trip to the tree farm and now the chance had been stolen from him. "I should have done this. Is this why you refused to come to the party? Dedalus Diggle asked about you."

"No, and Diggle has always been too kind. I left you a note and when you did not object, I thought it was okay, tomorrow is Christmas Eve after all."

Note… Had she left him a note?

He turned to Harry and Rose. "Hey, why don't you both go get into your pajamas? I will be up in a moment to read a book."

He headed for the kitchen hoping to make a cup of tea to calm his nerves. Ms. Meredith sat at the kitchen table and picked up her book. A pristine room surrounded him; the wooden cabinets gleamed and the sink shined. Everything was the same yet so different. His home was too clean.

"How have Rose and Harry been? The house looks immaculate, they must not be giving you a hard time." James walked over to the tea kettle. Ms. Meredith carefully placed a bookmark between her novel's pages.

"They often play in the garden. It gives me time to clean."

That must be why Lily had never kept the house this clean, she had been too busy playing with their children.

"Rose never leaves his side. Your son's patience is remarkable."

"Lily, she has… had so much patience." James frowned. "Hmm… I should have mentioned this sooner but since it's the holidays and all, I think I can handle the kids. You're welcome to take the next week off."

The Nanny's eyes darted away from him as she started to frown deeply. His eyebrows knitted in confusion. What had he said? Ms. Meredith looked back up at him with an uneasy expression.

"That's not necessary Mr. Potter. I would be more than happy to help over the holidays." She smoothed the front of her robes. James blinked back in puzzlement before a rush of clarity came to him.

"Oh, if this is about money, don't worry, I can afford to provide you holiday pay."

Ms. Meredith looked away, seemingly deep in thought.

"Sir, as you know, Benjy, my son passed away shortly before Christmas last year. If it's not too much to ask, I would prefer to stay here over the holidays. Your children are the closest thing to family that I have."

His heart clenched. Benjy Fenwick. The poor boy had barely left Hogwarts, when he died. They never found an entire body. Just bits and pieces.

He nodded his head immediately. He understood her pain. Her loneliness.

"Of course. You're more than welcome to stay." He inhaled a deep breath and blew out slowly as he thought on how to continue. "Benjy died a hero. The order will never forget his sacrifice."

Meredith stood and walked over to him. At the kitchen sink she began to wash her hands.

"He was not a sacrifice. He was a child," she bit. "Too young for war. If only he would have listened."

James stilled. "War is chaos. It follows no laws. The innocent die and the guilty live." Steam curled upwards as he poured water over the last batch of teabag's his wife had made.

"I care little for war." She clutched her robes. "Still, the presence of children does much to relieve the terror. Thank you for letting me stay. But if you could forgive me, I'm tired."

"Of course. Good night." He watched her retreat. A strange feeling of eeriness filled him. He sipped from the teacup, the remnants of his wife's kiss tantalizing his tongue.

The memory of Ms. Meredith yanking his son still haunted the edge of his mind. War and death could leave invisible scars. It wasn't so much that she had lost her temper with his child that worried him, but the fact that she had lied so well to cover it up. When someone could lie with their eyes, it meant something more disconcerting and often far more dangerous lied beneath.

James rubbed his eyes as he attempted to clear his weariness and worry away. Harry's words still rung in his ears.

"She makes Rose cry."

Unlike Ms. Meredith, he could not lie. Once New Year's passed he would go to Albus, the man would surely have a recommendation for a better replacement. He could not risk the chance.  
...

Harry stood in front of his mother's study. It was the only room he had yet to enter since her death. A silver key gleamed between his tightly clenched fingers; a stolen key.

He could just imagine his mother's disappointed gaze. He didn't want to be a thief. But he didn't have to imagine his sister's pain. He saw it every day and it overpowered his doubts.

Harry unlocked the door. Inside the dark room the heavy aroma of herbs, oil and medicines flowed out, caressing his skin, reminding him of his mum's embrace. He tiptoed inside, the hinges of the door groaned behind his back. It caused his heart to pound against his chest. Blindly, he searched by memory, his fingertips carefully brushing across the surface of a work desk. He let out a held breath as he found a charmed oil lantern and turned its metal knob. Light flooded across the wooden panels of the room and revealed his surroundings.

Glass jars lined the back wall on neat rows of shelves, late summer flowers still hung drying –now crumbling apart- from the ceiling, and his mother's desk was still covered in half-finished notes. On the other side of the room her potion lab sat innocently.

He strained to reach a jar with a familiar seed but his fingers barely brushed the smeared letters written across its label. Cursing under his breath, he pulled himself up on the worktable and snatched it. Sitting cross-legged on the table, he thumbed the smeared letters thoughtfully.

"Yesss… gift her a bouquet of aconite, hyacinth and ssweet pea. If the monkssshood does not kill her, the hyacinth sap ssurely will leave her with an itch to leave."

"Be quiet. I'm not killing her!"

Ergot Fungus… The last three words were unreadable, mixed together in a smudge of ink but it didn't matter. He knew this was it; he had seen it before.

He still remembered what his mother had told him the last time he had tried to touch it in the forest.

Her hand had quickly clasped his. "Careful, that's an Ergot Fungi. A dangerous plant with a very dark history. It was used during the Salem Witch Trials."

Yes, this fungi spread by invading grains of wheat. People had once mistakenly assumed the blackened seeds had only been darkened under the heat of the sun and had harvested it. But once consumed it caused hallucinations. It had turned entire towns into the gates of hell.

Ms. Meredith wasn't a muggle and she wouldn't scream witchcraft if she started seeing… say dirty footprints all over the walls. No, it would just be an unpleasant prank. But maybe it would be enough to scare the nanny away. It was just a subtle way to show his father how crazy the woman really was. Just a little push in the right direction.

"Yess, a push." It laughed.

Harry tilted his head from side to side, weighing his options. He wasn't really hurting her, only making her see things for a while. No lasting damage. She could have just as easily eaten a batch of bad grains. Wheat was in everything these days... He shook his head and clutched the jar tightly against his racing heart.

"Merry Christmas, Ms. Meredith," Harry whispered into the dark.

Writer's Note:

So if you thought Remus' reaction was to strong, think about how time had mellowed his hatred in the canon timeline. Not only that but he had just found out that he had done the very same thing to Sirius. Here the betrayal is still fresh.

Sorry for the delay but this chapter is the whopping size of 20 pages (6,600 words) long. So it's more like two chapters at once. ;) Appreciation can be shown with reviews. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's Note:
> 
> So if you thought Remus' reaction was to strong, think about how time had mellowed his hatred in the canon timeline. Not only that but he had just found out that he had done the very same thing to Sirius. Here the betrayal is still fresh.
> 
> Sorry for the delay but this chapter is the whopping size of 20 pages (6,600 words) long. So it's more like two chapters at once. ;) Appreciation can be shown with kudos and comments. ;)


	8. A shadowy embrace

A deep shade of red darkened the room as the sun's last light filtered through thick curtains casting curious shadows across the cherry-wood cabinets. Harry sat at the kitchen table as he swung his legs back and forth, tiptoes barely reaching the ground. Nibbling at the top of a crayon, Harry continued to stare towards the foyer.

It was New Year's Eve and yet… his father had still not returned. Instead of celebrating, he was stuck with the nanny.

"Rose, it is time for bed." Ms. Meredith said.

Harry playfully twirled his crayon around his fingers. "But it's New Year's. Bedtime is not until midnight."

"Bedtime is when I say it is." Her lips thinned into a forced smile. "Now, come Rose."

Harry bared his crayon down on the parchment paper and silently watched his sister drag her feet from the kitchen. Ms. Meredith towered over her like an ominous cloud.

His sister's door clicked shut. The crayon snapped and crumbled into pieces across the table. Silence hung in the air, thick and heavy.

He pushed away from the table and made his way across the kitchen. With deep determination his body moved lightly.

"Tick tock, tick tock." It whispered, urging him on.

Harry pressed against the counter and stretched to the tips of his toes. A pristine white and gold trimmed teacup sat innocently on the kitchen counter. At its side, a mesh ball hung from a chain. With trembling fingers, Harry snatched the infuser and twisted the silver ball open.

Peppermint oozed from the container, reminding Harry of the nanny's sickly sweet breath. From his pocket, he grabbed a pinch of blackened grains, and mixed them in before twisting it closed.

This was the seventh time he had spiked her tea. The seventh night where he would have to wait patiently, wait with the fear that he would have to yet again go to bed disappointed. Still he clung to his faith in his mother. She had told him that it caused hallucinations and so it would.

Even in death his mother's presence felt so perfectly clear. Lost in his past he smiled, clinging to her memory; he dreamed that she stood beside him holding his hand.

A high pitched shrill caused his fingers to shake as he jumped. His tight grip loosened. The tea infuser slipped and hit the ground with a sharp clang. Fumbling after it, his heart pounded against his chest. He regained his hold and glared darkly at the tea kettle whistling from the stovetop. He did not have much time. The stairs creaked.

With a panicked breath, he replaced the infuser and sprint across the kitchen. He was so close. He couldn't fail now. The nanny walked through the entrance as he struggled to sit down. Her sharp featured face contorted into vaguely masked fury. Harry's mouth dried. She had seen.

He broke away from her hawk like gaze and stared down at the table. His previous drawing laid innocently in front of him. His mother, father, and sister all smiled up from a field of golden grains. His sense of doom disappeared as hope blossomed in the pit of his stomach. With the picture in hand, he turned towards Ms. Meredith.

"What were you doing up?" She snapped.

Sharp nails were already digging into his tender shoulders. Harry only smiled brightly back, numb to the pain as his racing heart slowed, warmth fluttering in his belly. Victory was within his grasp.

"I drew a picture for you."

She looked down at the photo and caressed his mother's figure, her eyes softening.

"You accept your new family." The corners of her eyes wrinkled as she smiled sadly. "The picture is lovely but next time wait for me to return. I did not excuse you."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed together. His new family?

With clenched teeth, he watched her thumb the figure of his mother.

She thought it was her!

He nodded tightly, an insult barely contained behind clenched teeth. "May I draw one more picture for my father? Please."

She nodded yes and turned towards the stove.

Discreetly, he watched her cross the kitchen and pick up the kettle. Inching forward, he could not help but to lean ever so slightly as she poured steaming water over the contaminated infuser.

The nanny noticed his gaze. "Get to work. In fifteen minutes, you are off to bed finished or not." Straightening up the kitchen, she left the teacup to seep.

"Yes, Ms. Meredith." Harry sighed.

She took a sip from the teacup as she sorted the clean dishes into the cabinets above her head. He fidgeted in his seat. In uncomfortable silence he impatiently waited for something, anything to happen.

Ten minutes passed and nothing. Soon she would rush him up the stairs. He crossed his arms and frowned down at his blank sheet. Guilt ate at his stomach. He could not face his sister's tear stained face again.

"Mr. Potter fifteen minutes have passed, it's time to take yourself upstairs." Ms. Meredith seemed perfectly coherent and yet…Harry's gaze traced a line of sweat as it beaded and rolled down her cheek.

Ms. Meredith coughed. "Does it feel hot in here to you?"

Harry shrugged.

"Alright, well off with you. I'll be up a in a minute to lock the door."

"But I wanted to see the fireworks." He tried.

"Do not make me use force." She fanned her face.

"Fine!" Harry stomped up the stairs.

Why wasn't it working? He paused in front of Rose's bedroom. Silence prickled at his heart before the shattering of a cup broke his guilt twisted contemplation. He glanced behind him before cautiously stepping towards the stairs. At the end of the rail, he stood and carefully listened.

Biting his lip, he tried to force his feet not to move but his curiosity overcame his caution. He darted down the stairs, excitement fueling his long sweeping movements. He slid into the entrance of the kitchen. Ms. Meredith stood braced against the edge of the sink. Now panting, she moaned. "I'm so hot. My hands…they're stinging."

Harry wondered, was the fungus finally working?

She thumbed the edge of her robes as she tugged at her own clothing. Blinking rapidly, she drew in a breath as if drowning. Dark eyes cleared and narrowed on him.

"Help me," She said. Ms. Meredith's once meticulous hands, now shook as she reached for him; pleading for his help.

Harry stepped forward on impulse but then the image of Rose's tear stained face burned behind his eyes.

"Don't forget what she did to your sister!" The sound of hissing coated its speech yet for the first time it sounded pleasing to Harry's ears. Harry nodded. His choice made up. His dark passenger was right…

She deserved to suffer!

Harry rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, now watching the nanny with a new found interest. She would sob. Weep like his sister and he would watch.

"You forgot to say please."

Her eyes widened. "You- you accepted me. Why? Why aren't you listening?"

"It's simple really. You're not my mother."

She pushed from the counter and attempted to reach for him. But her balance failed and she fell to the floor. Her once tightly clasped hair spilt from its bounds as her head hit against the wood. Tremors shook her body as she began to convulse on the floor.

A sick thrill hummed in Harry's belly. Seeing her trembling beneath him caused his fingers to ache. He wanted to touch her; feel her pain… taste her grief. Relish in it.

Ms. Meredith stilled. Harry moved. His face only inches from hers, he cocked his head to the side. With cautious movements, he stroked a strand of hair from her sweaty face.

Her eyes snapped open. Arms jerking, she began to scream. "It burns. I'm burning. I'm burning aliv—" Straight white teeth chomped down. Harry pushed away as her tongue split open and bubbles of red blood poured over her lips. His heart pounded.

Her manicured nails dug into her delicate skin, breaking the surface, they plunged into the tender flesh and left ribbons of skin dangling across her arms. Red rivers of blood swelled up and flooded across pale skin. A sense of power flowed into his veins as hers bled out.

Harry blinked, reality surfaced from beneath his twisted pleasure. This was not a hallucination. This was something far more dangerous and unknown.

Blood drained from his round cheeks. Harry turned to flee but a blood drenched hand grabbed at his ankle.

With a damage tongue and blood choked words Ms. Meredith cried. "Benjy, don't go." She coughed. "Don't leave me." Harry kicked at her face. Wet fingers slipped and rose to her throat. Gurgles of undistinguishable words mixed and spilt from her mouth.

With his back pressed firmly against the cabinets, he stared with wide eyes. Screams warped into shrieks. Red painted hands rose to her face and clawed where he had kicked her. Harry held his breath, unable to turn away. Sharp nails pushed through her thin eyelids. Red became diluted as fresh fluids mixed. Clear goo exuded around her fingertips and down her cheeks in large thick chunks.

Harry's stomach turned, vomit burned up his throat and splashed across the ground. Even with his eyes shut tight, his tears still escaped as the familiar scent of blood washed over him.

"No, no, no…There's so much." Harry's hands threaded through black hair and pulled tightly. "Why? Why is this happening?"

Ominous laughter echoed around him.

Harry's world swirled around him in a mixture of perfect clarity and blurred opacity. His dark passenger's joy coloured his own guilt-filled horror. He pushed himself to stand and turned to flee.

Rage struck through his small frame like a hot hammer forging a blade.

"You can't run away! You did this! Look at her! Look at what you did!"

Harry's chest heaved as sobs shook him, heavy tears poured down his pale cheeks. His shoulders hunched as he tried to turn back but fear crippled him.

"Look at her! I told you to look at her! Look at what you did!" It screamed.

Harry's emerald eyes sprung open at its demand. The nanny now laid still in front of him, her eyeless sockets now unseeing as skin flushed with crimson and black; as if burning slowly from within. On the floor beside her laid his drawing now soaked with blood. His family smiled back. His father. His sister. His mother… What would they think? He hadn't meant to kill her, just to scare her.

"I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to hurt her!" Harry pleaded as tears dribbled across his lips.

"She was right about you, you know? You… are a monster. A noose would have been sso much cleaner, quicker…" The dark passenger purred, the words sickeningly sweet and full of approval; it praised him for his gruesome deed.

"I didn't do it on purpose. I didn't know!" Harry screamed begging it to believe him, to understand him.

"No one will believe you. They will send you to Azkaban."

Harry sucked in a breath.

"I'm not a murderer…"

But on the cold kitchen tile his malevolent caretaker laid motionless. Doubt festered in Harry's mind. The shadows on the walls spun into dark figures, crawling out at him, heightening his fear like the very guards of the ocean locked prison, sucking his strength as his fears rolled into visions.

"You are sso much more than a common criminal. You're special, superior."

Lights flickered overhead, shadows jumped and danced. He could feel it pulling him in. Attempting to swallow him whole as it tried to share its secrets. Dark hair draped in front of emerald eyes. Wiping snot from his nose, Harry stared down at the shattered teacup. It laid in pieces, white porcelain soaked in dark blood; it was broken, just like him.

"What do I do?" Harry whispered.

"Stop fighting. Accept that this is who you are. A monster."

"A monster..." He stared at his hands.

"You know it's true. Your terror stems from the fear of being caught. You wanted to make her suffer."

The vision of his father…sister…mother…

"You're right." As if staring down at a deep abyss Harry felt his knees wobbling, with feet only inches from the edge; this revelation brought him down to his knees. His fingers pressed against the tile, he submerged into the darkness of his own mind. Fluids of another human being once again soaking into his skin.

"Yessss. That's right." Darkness slithered from his mind and squeezed at his heart. "Now think, you must not get caught. You don't belong in Azkaban."

"Caught, Azkaban, I...I don't know. I can't think. "

"Here," It whispered. Harry shivered as an invisible cold finger brushed across his forehead. "You just need a little push." It cackled.

Harry gasped as thoughts shuffled through his mind like a deck of cards. Fear faded as his adrenaline fled. Harry grinned. His tired arm stretched towards Ms. Meredith's body. Excitement gleamed from his eyes. His dark passenger had always known. Every monster needs a dark passenger.


End file.
